The Winning Summer (11 page)

In the hallway, Katie slid off a horse still raring to go. “Easy, Boomer.”

“Thirty-four seconds is not exactly ribbon speed,” Skye said as she grabbed Boomer’s bridle to steady him. She glanced over her shoulder at the Thomases. Both held their index fingers to their lips.
Sh-h
, they mouthed silently.

“Yeah, I heard the man. No biggie,” Katie snapped. Reaching toward the saddle, she hooked the stirrup over the horn and started to loosen the cinch. “Who was here to see me anyway?”

“Final time, twenty-seven seconds!” blared from the arena. “That puts Ian Weirick and Cobalt in first place!” Another round of applause split the air.

“I was here, Katie!” Mrs. Thomas tried to make herself heard over the din.

“Oh, hi, Mom,” Katie replied without turning around. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

“And I’m here too.” Mr. Thomas’ voice cracked.

Katie stopped dead in her tracks.

Skye could only imagine what was going through the blind girl’s mind.

Turning toward her father’s voice, Katie glowed. “Dad!”

Mr. Thomas wrapped his arms around his daughter as though he hadn’t seen her in years. “I’m so sorry, Katie. I’m so sorry.” Eyes moist, the man waved his wife toward him.

“Oh, Dad,” Katie said, “I’m sorry too, for not trying harder in the race. I want you to be proud of me.”

“Katie,” Mrs. Thomas cried, embracing the two, “we
are
proud of you, for what you’ve accomplished. And we have some good news for you. Your father and I are, well, we want to start over. With the Lord’s help, we’ll do it—together!”

“Oh, Mom,” Katie said, her eyes watering. “I’m so glad!”

Skye stroked Boomer’s chin, basking in the scene unfolding before her. “Wow! How cool, God,” Skye whispered. “Thanks for answering prayer.”

Katie gave a tender hug to her mom and dad then slowly turned. “Where’s Skye?” she asked, wiping the tears from her face.

“Right here,” Skye said.

Hand in hand, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas moved to the side.

Katie reached in Skye’s direction. “I just wanna say thanks, Skye. Thanks for being my favoritist friend. You’re the best!”

Skye took Katie’s hand then slipped an arm around her shoulders. Her heart filled with the satisfaction and pride of a job well done, Skye now knew that God had used her for something very special.

She thought about the summer, an exciting summer that had taught her one important truth. “Winning” came in ways as different as the colors of horses. And winning with God was even better than winning a blue ribbon. Of this she was very sure.

“Nah, I’m not the best,” Skye said with a winning smile. “God is. I’m just here to help.”

Glossary of Gaits

Gait–
A gait is the manner of movement, the way a horse goes.

There are four natural or major gaits most
horses use: walk, trot, canter, and gallop.

Walk–
In the walk, the slowest gait, hooves strike the ground in a four-beat order: right hind hoof, right fore hoof, left hind hoof, left fore hoof.

Trot–
In the trot, hooves strike the ground in diagonals in a one-two beat: right hind and left forefeet together, left hind and right forefeet together.

Canter–
The canter is a three-beat gait containing an instant during which all four hooves are off the ground. The foreleg that lands last is called the “lead” leg and seems to point in the direction of the canter.

Gallop–
The gallop is the fastest gait. If fast enough, it’s a four-beat gait, with each hoof landing separately: right hind hoof, left hind hoof just before right fore hoof, left fore hoof.

Other gaits come naturally to certain
breeds or are developed through careful
breeding.

Running walk–
This smooth gait comes naturally to the Tennessee walking horse. The horse glides between a walk and a trot.

Pace–
A two-beat gait, similar to a trot. But instead of legs pairing in diagonals as in the trot, fore and hind legs on one side move together, giving a swaying action.

Slow gait–
Four beats, but with swaying from side to side and a prancing effect. The slow gait is one of the gaits used by five-gaited saddle horses. Some call this pace the stepping pace or amble.

Amble–
A slow, easy gait, much like the pace.

Rack–
One of the five gaits of the five-gaited American saddle horse, it’s a fancy, fast walk. This four-beat gait is faster than the trot and is very hard on the horse.

Jog–
A jog is a slow trot, sometimes called a
dogtrot
.

Lope–
A slow, easygoing canter, usually referring to a western gait on a horse ridden with loose reins.

Fox trot–
An easy gait of short steps in which the horse basically walks in front and trots behind. It’s a smooth gait, great for long-distance riding and characteristic of the Missouri fox trotter.

The Western Saddle

Chapter One

I
should’ve gone to Aunt Dot’s in Charleston for the summer!” Skye made her point perfectly clear as she shampooed her horse in the Keystone Stables paddock. “I’m really not looking forward to a summer with Joey Klingerman again.”

“Well, why didn’t you go to Charleston?” Morgan shot back. “I’m sure Champ would’ve had a simply marvelous time here without you.” From her wheelchair, Skye’s foster sister busied herself polishing a saddle on a sawhorse just outside the barn door.

Skye threw her arms around Champ’s drenched neck and clung to him like a wet rag. “But I can’t get along without him, Morgan. Not for a whole summer. I’d just die!”

The sorrel quarter horse nickered and nodded as though in agreement with Skye’s dramatic words.

Skye kissed Champ on the nose and then sighed as she wiped his neck with a dry cloth. “I know Joey can’t help it that he has Down syndrome, but he just won’t leave me alone. Mom’s been helping me to try and understand, and I found a neat website that explains all about kids like him, but—”

“And, Skye,” Morgan teased, flipping back her long red locks, “what about Chad? You’d die without him too, wouldn’t you?”

Skye’s face flushed red-hot and she giggled. “Cut it out. You know I’m going nowhere but here for the whole summer. Mom and Dad need both of us, I guess. And Chad? Well . . . I . . .”

“Did I hear my name?” A teenager in a dark brown Stetson, plaid shirt, and jeans led a buckskin horse out of the barn. “What can I do for you ladies?” Brown eyes flashed in Skye’s direction.

Although Skye was soaked and fairly cool from Champ’s bath, her cheeks flushed hotter than ever. She threw a quick glance at Chad and returned to her hosing job. “Oh—ah—nothing,” she stammered. “We’re just discussing the summer.”

“Yeah,” Morgan added, “and all the work that’s ahead of us.”

“But working with the horses is fun—most of the time.” Skye positioned herself so she could eye Chad.

Chad led the buckskin into the paddock, tied him to a fence post, and started to brush his shiny tan coat. “Yeah, even though Mr. C. pays me for helping, it
is
a lot of fun. The money goes into my college fund, and I get to play with horses and kids all summer. Now in my book that’s one super job. Are all the summer students here?”

Skye peeked over her horse’s withers, watching Chad’s every move. “Yeah. All four of them are here, bag and baggage. Sorry to say, Mom and Dad picked up Joey at the bus station right after church.”

Leaning over the horse’s back, Chad poked back his Stetson, revealing a clump of blond curls. “Joey Klingerman’s coming again? Why are you sorry?”

“’Cause I have a slight problem with him, that’s all,” she said weakly.

“A problem?” Chad asked.

Ignoring Chad’s question, Skye busied herself with water and bubbles.
Me and my big mouth.

“Joey bugs her to death!” Morgan put in her two cents’ worth.

Another big mouth!
Skye fumed. Shielding herself behind Champ, she shot a piercing glare at Morgan and shook her head.

A fake Cheshire grin masked Morgan’s freckles.
Sorry!
Her lips formed the word as she resumed soaping the saddle.

“Joey bugs you?” Chad boomed right behind Skye.

“Yikes!” Skye squeaked as she jumped to attention like a soldier called to arms.

Chad and Morgan burst out laughing.

Skye faced Chad in mock anger. “Very funny, Chad Dressler.”

Chad’s twin dimples highlighted his devilish smile. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you—much.”

“Yeah, right!” Skye said.
But you can scare me anytime!

Chad picked up a cloth and started drying Champ’s head. “Seriously, what’s wrong with Joey? He was here last year, and I didn’t notice any problem with him. He listened and followed all the rules, as far as I can remember.”

That
wasn’t
the problem!
Skye didn’t need to remind herself.

Morgan leaned forward on the padded saddle seat. “Well, problem or not, he’s up at the house with the others right now getting the whole nine yards from Mr. and Mrs. C. ‘Do this! Don’t do that!’ The kids probably feel like they’re in some kind of prison!”

“It mustn’t seem like prison to Joey, or he wouldn’t have come back,” Chad said.

Skye turned the hose nozzle off and started to dry the back part of Champ. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Chad’s every move.

Time to change the subject—and fast
, she told herself. “Well, I sure remember how I felt when I first came here as a know-it-all foster kid. I thought a straitjacket would have been better. But it didn’t take me long to get used to all the rules.”

“Me neither,” Morgan said, relaxing into her chair. “The cool stuff about bein’ a foster kid here far outweighs the negatories.”

“Negatories?” Skye giggled as she slid her fingers through her long brown hair. “Is that a word?”

“Not sure.” Morgan giggled too. “But it sounded good.”

“I think it’s ‘negatives’!” Chad finished wiping off the front of Champ. He pulled a hoof pick out of his back pocket, headed to the buckskin, and lifted one of its front legs.

He is so-o-o smart!
Skye concluded.

“Easy, Bucky,” Chad said, carefully examining the triangular pad on the bottom of the horse’s hoof. “We’ve gotta clean your frogs out—and good. Skye,” he said in his next breath, “speaking of problems, how’d Bucky’s thrush do over the winter?”

“Every once in a while it’d flare up, especially if we didn’t keep his stall clean and dry. Dad said once a horse tangles with that nasty infection, he can get it again in a wink.”

“Yeah,” Morgan said, “I remember when we got him at auction. Auction horses are risky any way you look at it. Even then, he had a real bad case of thrush in that front right hoof.”

“And ever since then we’ve had to keep an eye on it,” Skye added.

Skye studied Chad as he cleaned both of the horse’s front hooves. “Uh-oh,” he said, still bent over with one hoof resting on his knee, “I think we have a touch of it right here on each side of this frog, Skye. Come here and look.”

Skye rushed to Chad’s side and examined Bucky’s hoof. The deep crevices on both sides of the tattered frog were lined with a pitch-black “dirt.” As Chad scraped it out, Bucky’s hoof gave off a smell that stank worse than last month’s garbage.