A Horse to Love Read online

  A Horse

  to Love

  Other Books in the Keystone Stables Series

  On the Victory Trail (Book Two)

  Southern Belle’s Special Gift (Book Three) Summer Camp Adventure (Book Four) Leading the Way (Book Five)

  Blue Ribbon Champ (Book Six)

  Whispering Hope (Book Seven)

  The Long Ride Home (Book Eight)

  ZONDERKIDZ

  A Horse to Love

  Previously titled The Trouble with Skye Copyright © 2004, 2009 by Marsha Hubler All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.

  ePub Edition June 2009 ISBN: 0-310-86249-3

  Requests for information should be addressed to: Zonderkidz, Grand Rapids, MI 49530

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Hubler, Marsha, 1947-

  [Trouble with Skye]

  A horse to love / by Marsha Hubler.

  p. cm. -- (Keystone Stables ; bk. 1) Summary: Thirteen-year-old Skye, a troubled foster child, comes to live at Keystone Stables, a Christian home where she discovers her love for horses.

  ISBN 978-0-310-71792-8

  [1. Horses—Fiction. 2. Foster home care—Fiction. 3. Christian life—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.H86325Tr 2009

  [Fic]—dc22

  2008045620

  All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright

  © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers printed in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

  stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other — except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Special thanks to the Glupker family for use of their ranch.

  Zonderkidz is a trademark of Zondervan.

  Cover design: Sarah Molegraaf

  09 10 11 12 13 5 4 3 2 1

  Content

  cover page

  title page

  copyright

  map of the chamber ranch

  chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight

  chapter nine

  chapter ten

  chapter eleven

  chapter twelve

  chapter thirteen

  a Letter to my keystone stables Fans are you ready to own your first Horse?

  glossary of gates

  about the publisher

  share your thoughts

  This book is dedicated to all children and horse lovers everywhere.

  My deepest appreciation to my first editor, Barbara Scott, whose expertise and kind advice were

  a constant encouragement to write for God’s glory.

  Map of the Chambers’ Ranch

  1. The Chambers’ house

  2. Parking lot for Chambers’ Chambers 3. Dirt road

  4. Stream

  5. Bridge

  6. Gazebo

  7. Picnic pavilion

  8. Wooded area with riding trails

  9. Piney Hol ow

  10. Barn

  11. Smal paddock

  12. Large fenced-in field

  13. Wal jumps

  14. Practice obstacle course

  15. Pond

  16. Fields

  17. Hil with view of Shade Val ey

  chapter one

  Young lady — and I use that term loosely — I’m tired of your despicable behavior. You have exhausted this court’s patience. I’m sending you to the Chesterfi eld Detention Center!”

  Skye Nicholson looked cold as an ice cube as she slumped in the wooden chair and stared back at Judge Mitchel . Most ordinary thirteen-year-olds would have been scared to death at a hearing with an angry judge yel ing at the top of his lungs. But Skye was no “ordinary” thirteen-year-old. Her anger matched the judge’s. Only Wilma Jones, her court-appointed lawyer, prevented Skye from exploding.

  “Cool it,” the lawyer, Wilma, squeezed out of her mouth as she grabbed Skye’s arm.

  Skye opened her mouth and yawned deliberately, pul ing her arm from the woman’s grasp. Her brown eyes then pinched into slits as she shoved her fingers through her long dark hair. She folded her arms and slumped down farther, stretching her legs under the table and crossing them with a jolt. Her glare shifted from the judge to the anxious attorney seated next to her.

  “Get real,” Skye snapped. Her lips tightened into an unmistakable display of disgust as she once again turned her scowling face to the judge.

  “Twenty years on the bench in Pennsylvania, and I have never seen a record like this for a girl your age,” the judge continued. He slid reading glasses onto his face and lifted a paper. “Five foster homes.

  Drug and alcohol abuse, vandalism, shoplifting —

  and that’s just this past year! This reads like a record for someone at the state penitentiary!”Continuing down the paper, he pointed sharply at the bottom.

  “Oh — and this is the best part. You didn’t do any of it! C’mon, Skye,” the judge barked as he yanked off his glasses and glared. “What do you think I am, stupid?”

  Skye popped into an upright position, mouth open, more than wil ing to answer. “Now that you ask — ” she said.

  Wilma glared and dug five long red fingernails into Skye’s arm. “Knock it off!” she whispered.

  Skye wasn’t one to take advice from anyone, even if polished nails were sinking into her flesh. With a yank, she pul ed free and folded her arms. Then down she went into her super slump, staring at a scratch in the table. She glanced up at the judge and then looked down again.

  “It’s not a question of if you are going, but for how long!” Judge Mitchel declared.

  The paneled courtroom, damp and empty except for six people, held an eerie quiet. Al that could be heard was April rain pelting the towering windows on each side. Nothing stirred for what seemed like hours.

  Skye glanced at the judge and then at the plump court reporter sitting in front of his bench. Everyone was waiting. Skye leaned forward, resting her right elbow on the table. Placing her head on her open hand, she glanced to the left, past her lawyer who sat with hands folded, to a man in a blue suit. “Dork” Dansing, prosecuting attorney, Skye thought, scowling . He’s always sticking his nose in my business. Next to Dansing, pushed back from his table, sat a woman whom Skye had never seen before. Just as Skye’s glance found her, the woman looked over and smiled.

  Skye was so amazed that someone would actual y smile at her that she couldn’t help but stare. As silence radiated from the bench, Skye examined this new but interesting enemy.

  Not bad for thirty-something, Skye thought.

  The solid-framed woman wore a dark green pantsuit. Two very blue eyes radiated from a pl
easant face framed by short, frosted hair.

  She looks like Ida Markham, Skye thought, remembering one of her former foster mothers.

  Wonder if they’re related? Could’ve come from the same litter.

  “Skye!” Wilma whispered. “The judge is waiting for some kind of response from you. Act like you’re the least bit sorry and he might go easy. I’m trying to get your sentence shortened.”

  “Yeah, right,” Skye returned in a loud, sarcastic whisper.

  “Girl, I’m trying to help you. Now cool it!” Wilma stood. “Your Honor,” she apologized, “I beg the court’s indulgence. I think Skye has learned her lesson this time. She real y is sorry.” The lawyer gently placed her hand on Skye’s shoulder.

  Like a faucet that had sprung a leak, Skye’s eyes glistened with moisture as she stared at the judge.

  She realized that turning on the tears was her last hope to avoid Chesterfield. Skye crumpled her face into an Oscar-winning pout and tears flowed down her now-red cheeks.

  Wilma reached into her pocket and handed Skye a wad of tissues. Skye dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. With her puppy-dog eyes and quivering lips, she repositioned in the chair, folded her hands around the tissues, and smiled innocently at the judge.

  “I’m not buying it!” Judge Mitchel announced. “I’ve been through this act before and it’s getting a little old. Save your tears for Chesterfield, Skye. They don’t work anymore. Sorry, Wilma. Nice try.” The judge stacked a pile of papers. “Does anyone have anything else to say?”

  “If it pleases the court,” Samuel Dansing said, standing, “Eileen Chambers would like to request that she and her husband, Tom, be granted custody of Skye Nicholson.I believe Your Honor is aware of the Chambers’ fine record as foster parents.”

  “Eileen,” Judge Mitchel said emphatical y, “I was afraid that’s why you were here. You don’t want this kid.Trust me. She ran the last two sets of foster parents out of the business.”

  Eileen Chambers glanced over at Skye and then stood to her feet. “Your Honor, we’d real y like to give this a try. We’ve had troubled kids before and — ”

  “Not like this one, you haven’t. I mean it. You’re diving in way over your heads.”

  “It’s worth a try, Your Honor. I think we can help her.”

  Judge Mitchel leaned back in his leather chair and stroked his beard. He glanced at Eileen, then at Skye.

  Eileen waited patiently. Skye sat quietly with fake ribbons of tears stil trickling down her face.

  “I’l consider my decision. Until then, we’re adjourned,” Judge Mitchel said. He rose, gathered a thick pile of folders, and hastened off to a side room, slamming the door.

  After a week in juvenile hal , Skye found herself seated in front of a battered wooden desk at some place cal ed Maranatha Treatment Center. Al she knew was that she wasn’t going to Chesterfield and she would be going to another foster home. Skye acted like the thought didn’t bother her one way or the other. More foster parents. Big deal, she told herself. Her last set of foster parents had dropped her off at the Children and Youth Agency two weeks ago.

  Easy come; easy go. Another day in the life of an unwanted nobody, she thought, looking around the empty room. So what else is new?

  Down in her super slump, Skye folded her arms and crossed her legs, her eyes exploring every corner of the cramped office. The wal s were a faded yel ow that matched the worn-out carpet perfectly.

  She took a deep breath and wrinkled her nose.

  Yuck! Smells like the boys’ locker room at school!

  She scanned the two big windows on either side of the desk and decided they were probably last painted before she was born. The only bright spots in the whole place were colored posters spaced evenly on the wal s, posters about God and courage and peace. Final y, out of boredom, Skye focused on a name plaque on the desk: Eileen Chambers, Special Needs Therapist.

  Great! Skye complained to herself. Someone else who thinks she can figure me out. The only special

  “need” I have is to get outta here!

  Behind her a door opened and closed. Skye looked up to see Eileen Chambers approaching the desk. The woman settled graceful y into a rickety swivel chair, looked at Skye, and smiled. Skye stared openly at her bright yel ow T-shirt with the letters MARANATHA in rainbow colors splashed across the front.

  “Good morning, Skye,” Mrs. Chambers said. “How are you today?”

  Skye lowered her head, her face wrinkling into a pout.

  “Oh, the silent treatment?” the woman said. “Okay, have it your way — for now.”

  Skye listened while Mrs. Chambers shuffled papers, opened and shut drawers, and squeaked the stubborn chair. Final y, after what seemed like forever, the woman spoke, and Skye glanced up.

  “According to this, you’ve got some pretty big problems,” Mrs. Chambers said, holding up a folder with papers sticking out. She dropped it in the middle of the desk. “Al of us here at Maranatha Treatment Center are wil ing and able to help you find some solutions, young lady.”

  Why does everybody who sits behind a desk call m e “young lady”? Skye griped to herself. They all know I’m not a young lady. Never have been —

  never will be.

  Mrs. Chambers leaned back in the chair as far as she could. “Skye, Judge Mitchel has placed you into our after-school program.”

  Skye just stared into her blue eyes.

  “You certainly have made quite a reputation for yourself at Madison Middle School.” The woman slipped a paper from the folder and placed it on the desk. “This list of offenses is something else. And what’s with this assault on Hannah Gilbert? You threw soda in her face and set fire to her books.”

  “I just don’t like her stupid face, that’s al !” Skye snapped. “Someday I’m gonna punch her lights out.”

  “There’s more to life than hating people. What are you trying to do? Prove you’re the toughest kid at Madison?” Mrs. Chambers smiled discreetly.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Skye sneered.

  “Anyway,” the woman continued, “your life is about to take an about-face. Honey, you have so much potential, but it’s buried pretty deep. We can help you find the other you.”

  “Honey’s for bees, and I ain’t sweet! My name is Skye!” She pul ed her arms tighter against her chest.

  “Al right, Skye, ” Eileen Chambers said sternly.

  “You have much to learn. One of those things is respect for authority.” She leaned forward, folding her hands on top of a pile of folders. “Here’s the deal. Are you listening?”

  “Yeeeesss!” Skye drew out her response like air escaping from a bicycle tire. She tightened her shoulders and clenched her fists.

  “I hope you’re wil ing to accept the terms of the judge’s decision. Frankly, you have little choice. Your only other option is Chesterfield for who knows how long. I’m sure you’d rather not go there. Now, here’s the plan.” She pul ed out another paper from the same folder. “First — and you’re going to like this —

  you’l go back to Madison after you serve a ten-day suspension. You real y should have been expel ed, you know. But I think everyone is wil ing to give you one more chance since you’l be living with Mr.

  Chambers and me at Keystone Stables.”

  “What’s Keystone Stables?” Skye asked harshly.

  Mrs. Chambers smiled again. “Wel , it’s our home for one thing. And it’s also a special needs dude ranch, licensed by the State of Pennsylvania. We operate on state funding, grants, and private donations. You should love it there. But back to your daily routine; after school every day you wil be transported by van here to Maranatha Treatment Center for counseling. Any questions so far?” Skye folded her arms tighter. Staring at the floor, she counted slivers of caked mud left by other people’s sneakers. This woman would never know if she was listening or not.

  “Look at me when I speak to you, young lady.” Silence. Final y, Skye felt compel ed to look up.

  “Thank y
ou. Next, and most importantly, you wil spend an unspecified length of time in our care, not only as a Maranatha client but also as a foster child in our home at Keystone. Maybe a year — it’s al contingent on your behavior. The Johnsons have already brought al your clothes and signed the release papers, so we’re ready to move you today.

  I’l be your caseworker here as wel as your foster parent, so get ready. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together — like it or not.” Skye’s eyes flared, and her cheeks flushed with anger.“You have got to be kidding! You’re going to be my counselor as wel as my foster mother? I’d rather rot in juvie!” Skye ran her fingers through her hair angrily as she glared pitchforks at the woman.

  “That can be arranged, Miss Nicholson!” the woman retorted as her blue eyes locked on Skye’s.

  “We need to get some things straight right now.” She leaned forward al the way over her desk. “Sit up in that chair when I speak to you!”

  Skye reluctantly sat up and scowled.

  “Number one: your days of tel ing people what to do are over,” Mrs. Chambers lectured.

  “Number two: this is what the judge ordered. We wil al comply with every word, including you.”

  “Number three: Chesterfield always has empty cel s for kids who think they know everything. Al I need to do is pick up that phone. Any questions?” Eileen Chambers leaned back into her chair, certain she had made her point. “And one more thing: you may cal me Mrs. Chambers or Mrs. C, but never Eileen. Is that clear?”

  “Ei — ” Skye’s face turned red and ice hung from her voice.

  “Yes, Miss Nicholson?” Mrs. Chambers said as she leaned forward, daring Skye to try it.

  “Ei — Wil I have my own bedroom?” Skye’s voice changed, now showing some concern amidst her anger.

  “It’s al taken care of.” Mrs. Chambers relaxed.

  “We have lots of room at our house. And,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, “there’s also a surprise waiting for you.”

  chapter two

  Welcome to Keystone Stables, Skye!” Mrs.

  Chambers said as they climbed out of the van.

  Skye fol owed Mrs. Chambers up a long ramp onto the porch of a ranch home located in the country. The spring rains had given way to a warm breeze and a crystal-clear sky. Skye took a deep breath, trying to hide her feelings as she recal ed the last few weeks.