The Long Ride Home Read online

  The Long Ride Home

  Book 8

  Keystone Stables

  Marsha Hubler

  Dedicated to all my foster children, whom I love as my own.

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter fourteen

  Chapter fifteen

  Chapter sixteen

  A Letter to my Keystone Stables Fans

  Are You Ready to Own Your First Horse?

  Glossary of Gaits

  Other Books in the Keystone Stables series

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Share Your Thoughts

  Chapter one

  The waitress carrying two coffee pots walked to the table and stood beside Mr. Chambers. “More coffee, sir?”

  Skye glanced at the waitress, who stared back with a strange look on her face.

  “Regular, please,” Mr. Chambers said, handing the waitress his cup.

  The waitress poured the coffee, shifting her glance from Mr. Chambers’ cup to Skye and back. The waitress’s dark hair, the color of Skye’s, was drawn back into a ponytail and adorned by a yellow cap that daintily covered her crown. In a blue top, black pants and a frilly yellow apron, the petite woman, probably in her early thirties, looked like she needed a good dose of vitamins. On her apron bib a small silver nametag displayed her name: MILLIE.

  “How about you, ma’am?” Millie asked Mrs. Chambers, now with a slight edge to her voice. The waitress never took her eyes off Skye.

  “No thank you,” Mrs. Chambers said. “I’m fine.”

  Walking away, the waitress glanced back at Skye one more time.

  “Mom,” Skye said, “did you see how that waitress stared at me?”

  “Sure did,” Mrs. Chambers said. “You probably remind her of someone she knows. That often happens to me. I can be hundreds of miles away from home, but, almost without fail, I’ll see a stranger who looks like someone I know.”

  “Been there, done that, too,” Morgan agreed.

  Skye pulled her focus away from Millie and studied her surroundings. “This place is too cool,” she said. In a diner on the outskirts of Charleston, South Carolina, she was about to enjoy a Saturday evening meal of burgers and fries with her foster parents, Tom and Eileen Chambers, and her foster sister, fifteen-year-old Morgan Hendricks, who sat in a wheelchair. In the diner’s parking lot, their horse trailer was hosting an oats-and-hay feast for the family’s four show horses, including Skye’s pride and joy, her sorrel Quarter Horse Champ.

  Back at Keystone Stables, Skye’s good friend Chad Dressler was house-sitting, looking after the two Westies, Tippy Canoe and Tyler Too, as well as the family’s two other horses.

  After spending the last week of June at a state horse show in Virginia, the Chambers’ family was now heading to Rebucks’ Rocking Horse Ranch, a Christian special-needs dude ranch in the southeast corner of South Carolina near Charleston. As short-term staff, they would donate their time there for the next two weeks. Morgan planned to work in the kitchen while Mr. Chambers would volunteer his carpentry skills to remodel the chapel. Mrs. Chambers and Skye would teach horse care and Western riding techniques to about a hundred campers. On some of their time off, they planned to visit Mr. Chambers’ sister, Dot, who lived in North Charleston.

  As the Chambers family settled at a table, Skye studied the unique décor of the “Cozy Cupboard.” Reminiscent of the 50s, the small diner oozed with mouth-watering smells and delicious-looking food. At the counter, a row of tired men, truck drivers Skye figured, had lined up on the stools to grab a quick bite. Along one windowed wall a row of booths held numerous patrons who talked as slowly as they ate. Between the counter and booths most of the tables were occupied, one of them with the Chambers clan. The floor, in gray and red tile blocks, displayed an original design of scuffmarks and food stains. One waitress behind the counter and two others moving through the dining room had barely enough time to breathe as they hustled with orders, trying their best to exude a pleasant demeanor. In the background, country music blared.

  Within minutes the Chambers’ food was served, Mr. Chambers prayed, and the family’s conversation focused on the past week’s activities.

  “Girls, I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of you.” Mr. Chambers took a sip of his coffee and smoothed his brown mustache. “We’re taking home seven blue ribbons and five red ones, and most of them are yours.”

  Skye’s brown eyes flashed as she tucked her long dark hair behind her ears. “I started to lose count about halfway through the week. Dad, you didn’t do too bad yourself. When you won first place in calf roping, you and Chief broke your own time, didn’t you?”

  “By a half second.” Mr. Chambers replied proudly. “That little Paint cowpony of mine can really fly. And how about the woman of the house and Pepsi?” He gave Mrs. Chambers a quick wink. “They cleaned up the Western Reining Class. I don’t think they could have done any better with a vacuum cleaner.”

  Mrs. Chambers’ deep blue eyes sparkled as she smiled at her husband. “Oh, Tom, stop that carrying on. I had an easier time this year because the competition was not as keen as in the past. But Pepsi was at the top of her game. I will agree with that.” She shifted her glance across the table to Morgan. “And how about our special-needs gal, here? She and Blaze blazed up a storm in their barrel-racing event too. Second place out of ten in a regional championship is nothing to sneeze at.”

  Morgan’s freckled face beamed with her usual radiant smile. Her sunburned cheeks matched the color of her long wavy red hair. “Thanks, Mrs. C.,” she said, blowing on her fingernails. “I guess when you’ve got it, you’ve got it!”

  “Girls, are you ready for next week?” Mr. Chambers asked, taking a bite of his double burger.

  “Dad,” Skye said, “I’m so excited, I can’t stand it.” She shoved a French fry in her mouth. “I never thought serving the Lord could be like this. I mean, Champ and I will be serving the Lord together. How cool is that?”

  “Although I can’t stand it anytime in this wheelchair, I’m going bonkers too,” Morgan said, giggling. “I can’t wait to get in that camp kitchen to peel hard-boiled eggs and potatoes. I know that sounds weird for a teenager, but I love every part of cooking, even stuff like that. I can’t believe that we’ll all be doing things we love so much.”

  “That’s the way God works,” Mr. Chambers said. “It says in Proverbs that he’ll give us the desires of our heart if we love him and trust him. He’s proven himself over and over to us.”

  “Skye, will you—“ Mrs. Chambers started to say.

  Crash!

  Passing close to the Chambers’ table, Millie dropped a full tray of food onto the hard tile floor. Spaghetti and meatballs flew everywhere, and the vintage Melmac dishes bounced off the tile floor like rubber balls, sending an irritating echo through the entire place. Skye jumped like she’d been poked with a pin. Everyone turned and stared, and the place grew dead silent.

  “I am so sorry.” Millie was already on her knees, trying her best to clean up the mess.

  “Accidents do happen.” Mr. Chambers, his clothes littered with red blotches, shoved back his chair and picked up several plastic glasses.

  Mrs. Chambers and Skye launched out of their chairs and brushed off spaghetti from their clothes. Fr
om a swinging door behind the counter, a man in a chef’s hat, blue shirt, and white apron came rushing out. He lugged a large bucket of soapy water, a mop, and another bucket that was empty. “You got butter fingers tonight, Millie?” the man said gruffly as he pitched in.

  “I’m sorry, Butch,” Millie said, shoving spilled food and plates into the empty bucket. “It was a little heavy.”

  “We’ll have to put you on steroids,” Butch said as though he meant it. “I’m terribly sorry folks,” he said to Mr. Chambers. “Your meals are on the house.”

  “It’s all right,” Mr. Chambers said as he helped Millie. “Nobody’s hurt. That’s what matters.”

  Skye looked around, and except for two small children still gawking, everyone else had gone back to their meals as though nothing had happened. She glanced under the table and saw a biscuit near Morgan’s foot. Quickly, she retrieved the roll and placed it in the trash bucket.

  “Thank you,” Millie said as she, again, stared briefly at Skye and resumed her clean-up job.

  Butch finished wiping the floor and hurried away. “Remember, folks,” he yelled back without looking, “the meals are on me tonight. Millie, a fresh order of what you just dropped will be ready in ten.”

  “Thanks, Butch,” Millie said. “Be there in a sec.”

  While Morgan supplied clean napkins from the table’s dispenser, Mr. and Mrs. Chambers and Skye worked at wiping spots from their clothes. Finally, after a quick sweep of their chairs, they sat down to finish their meal.

  Millie stood beside Skye, grabbed an array of soiled napkins from the table, and stuffed them in her apron pocket. “Folks,” she said sheepishly, “I apologize again for scaring you out of your wits.” She fingered her collar, crossed her arms, then placed her hands on her hips, all the while staring at Skye.

  Mr. Chambers held up his hand. “Now, that’s all right. No harm done.”

  “No, really,” Millie said, fidgeting with her collar again. “I was startled when I heard someone here call this young lady ‘Skye.’”

  Skye glanced at Mom and Dad Chambers’ surprised faces. With her mind full of questions, Skye looked deep into Millie’s brown eyes. “Do…you…know me?” she asked.

  “I think I do,” Millie said. “Is your name Skye Nicholson?”

  Chapter two

  I really can’t talk now,” Millie said, glancing at her watch. “I get off in a half hour. If we can meet then, I’ll explain everything.”

  Skye sat with her mouth stuck in neutral.

  “By all means,” Mr. Chambers said. “We’ll be waiting right here.”

  “Could I meet you outside in back of the restaurant?” Millie asked, eyes focused intensely on Skye. “There’s a picnic table there where us waitresses go for breaks.”

  “Sure, that’ll be fine,” Mrs. Chambers said.

  What’s going on? Skye wondered.

  “In a half hour then?” Millie smiled at Skye, turned, and hurried away.

  “In a half hour,” Mr. Chambers yelled after her.

  As Millie rush behind the counter to pick up her next order, Skye watched every move the woman made. “Mom, who is she?”

  “Other than her name being Millie, I have no idea,” Mrs. Chambers said.

  “And, Skye, how does she know your last name?” Morgan asked.

  “These are questions we soon should have answered,” Mr. Chambers said. “Let’s finish our meals and we’ll check on the horses before we meet with this woman, whoever she is.”

  “I can’t eat now,” Skye moaned. “I feel sick.” She put down her fork and stared at Millie. “Do you think she’s my real mother?”

  Mrs. Chambers reached across the table and touched Skye’s arm. “Honey, we’ll find out soon enough. You know, I’m not so hungry myself.”

  Who is Millie and what does this all mean? Skye’s unanswered questions tumbled in her brain like leaves in a whirlwind as the Chambers’ table exuded an uncommon silence. Skye stared at her foster mother, whose forced smile betrayed a deep worry. Skye glanced at her foster dad and then Morgan, who both wore similar looks that reflected exactly how Skye was feeling inside.

  Skye took a quick glance at Millie and then back to her foster parents, who had taken her in and had loved her through all her troubles and trials. Again, she looked at Morgan, who looked more worried and distant than ever before. Morgan never worried about anything.

  Suddenly, Skye wasn’t quite sure if she even wanted to know who this Millie person was. In a half hour, Skye reasoned, her world as she knew it could shatter like an old glass bottle from a shotgun blast. Was she ready to face such overwhelming insecurity that suddenly lay blocking her life’s path? With a sigh, she realized she had no choice. The unknown was coming for her, and she could do nothing to stop it.

  At the picnic table behind the diner, Skye stood up and glanced at her watch. “It’s been thirty-five minutes. Maybe she left.”

  “I don’t think so,” Mr. Chambers said. “She’s got something to tell us, Skye, and I think, whatever it is, it’s very important.”

  “The suspense is killing me.” Even with her worried look, Morgan tried to lighten the mood. “I just wonder how she knows your name.”

  The door of the diner opened, and out rushed Millie, carrying a bulging red wallet that had seen better days. She hurried to the table and stared at Skye.

  “How do you know me?” Skye stood behind Mrs. Chambers and put her hands firmly on her foster mother’s shoulders.

  Millie took a deep breath as she glanced around the table, and her eyes suddenly teared up. With jittery hands, she opened her wallet and pulled out a packet of folded papers and cards. She nervously shuffled through them and separated what looked like a photo from the pile. “Skye, is your birthday January 15th and are you thirteen years old?” Millie’s voice quivered uncontrollably.

  “Y-yes,” Skye barely managed to say. “Are…are you my real mother?”

  Millie handed the photo to Mrs. Chambers. “This is me holding Skye eleven years ago.” Pulling a shriveled-up tissue from her apron pocket, she dabbed her eyes, red and now flooding with tears. “Skye, I’m Millie Nicholson Eister. I’m your aunt. Your father is my brother.”

  Skye’s entire body quivered as she stared at the picture that showed a younger Millie, not much thinner than she was now, holding a toddler with dark brown hair and brown eyes very much like Skye’s. Skye’s knees wobbled, and she was certain that any passing breeze would topple her right over. She tightened her grip on her foster mother’s shoulders, and Mrs. Chambers reached up and firmly grasped her one hand. Skye glanced at Morgan and Mr. Chambers, whose faces both mirrored Skye’s emotional turmoil.

  “But—how?” Skye rambled. “Where’s my father? Who is he? And where’s my mother?”

  “Millie, please sit down.” Mr. Chambers gestured, then nervously stroked his mustache. “I’m sure you have a lot to tell us.”

  Mrs. Chambers handed the photo to her husband, who studied it carefully and showed it to Morgan. Millie edged herself onto the bench across from Mrs. Chambers.

  “I’m sure this is a big shock to all of you.” Millie dabbed tears from her eyes. “I can hardly believe it myself. I’ve been wondering what happened to Skye all these years after she went into foster care. No matter how hard I tried, I never could find out a thing about her from the agencies. I had pretty much given up hope.”

  “But—where are my parents?” Skye’s voice quivered.

  “Easy, Skye,” Mrs. Chambers said, squeezing her hand tighter. “We’ll find out in good time.”

  “I don’t even know where to start,” Millie said.

  “Start at the beginning,” Mr. Chambers said. “Just take your time.”

  “Yeah, we have all night.” Morgan’s words seemed forced. “This is a super moment for Skye.”

  Again, Mrs. Chambers squeezed Skye’s hand. “Honey, sit down, and let’s hear what Millie has to say.”

  Skye slipped next to her foster mom, folding
her hands to keep them from shaking. With her mind exploding with questions, she could do nothing but stare at Millie Nicholson Eister, a perfect stranger, her aunt.

  Millie took a deep breath and began. “Skye, your father’s name is Jacy Nicholson. We grew up in Pittsburgh.”

  “His name is Jacy?” Skye asked.

  “Yes,” Millie answered. “He was named after our father—your grandfather—James Collier Nicholson. Our parents used the initials J. and C. and gave him the name Jacy. By the way, when you were born, you were the spittin’ image of your dad. You were his pride and joy.”

  “You grew up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania?” Morgan said. “We live in Pennsylvania now.”

  “I figured you were from the north somewhere,” Millie said a half smile. “No southern drawl. Anyway, after Jacy graduated from a tech school, he worked as a mechanic at a garage on the outskirts of southern Pittsburgh. A few years later, he married his childhood sweetheart, Rita Ulmer.”

  “My mother’s name is Rita?” Skye asked. “Where is she?”

  Mrs. Chambers patted Skye’s hands. “Just wait, honey. You’ll find out.”

  “At first their marriage was a happy one, especially after they had you. You were their only child. But Jacy started running with some men who drank, so he started hitting the bottle too. That’s when things went terribly wrong.” Again, Millie dabbed at the tears making wet tracks down both sides of her face. “Eleven years ago, Jacy and Rita were in a horrible accident. Jacy was speeding and went head-on into another car. Although Jacy and Rita were only banged up a little, the other driver, a young mother of two small children, was killed.”

  “Oh, my,” Mrs. Chambers gasped, her hand covering her mouth.

  “That must have been awful,” Skye said.

  Millie continued. “Rita never drank much in her younger years, but that night she was loaded, too, and resisted arrest. To spare herself from jail time, she testified against Jacy in court. He was convicted of vehicular homicide and was sentenced to fifteen years at one of the state pens.”