A Horse to Love Page 4

  “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.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “That was Champ’s way of saying he approves,” Mr. Chambers said. “He real y does like you. No doubt about it.”

  “Here, use this on his legs where the mud is caked on.” Mrs. Chambers handed her the metal-toothed tool.

  Skye bent down, noticing crumbly pieces of mud on al four legs near the hooves. Using the comb, she scraped off what looked like hard icing on a stale donut. “How did that get there?”

  “The sweetest grass in the meadow grows down at the pond’s edge,” Mr. Chambers said. “When the horses go after that treat, they get al muddied up.

  Horses and mud go together like ham and eggs.” For an hour, the Chambers showed Skye how to groom Champ, how to clean his hooves with a pick, how to comb his mane and tail, and how to apply bug repel ent to his coat. They even showed Skye how to use an electric razor on Champ’s ears, muzzle, and legs.

  They also told her about the seriousness of feeding hay and oats properly — the right amount at the right time or there could be deadly consequences.

  “A horse’s digestive tract is very sensitive. Colic is a dangerous ailment to a horse,” Mrs. Chambers said, “and founder — a hoof inflammation — can kil a horse, so we must be extremely careful about food and water.”

  Skye had just finished brushing Champ and was just beginning to feel half confident about the horse thing until Mr. Chambers came out of the barn carrying a western saddle, blanket, and a bridle.

  Oh no, she thought. I’m not ready! “I — I — need to use the bathroom,” she said to Mrs. Chambers.

  “No problem,” Mrs. Chambers replied. “There’s one in the barn near our office. Come on, I’l show you.”

  You have to be kidding, Skye grumbled to herself.

  No way am I gonna get outta this!

  In a few minutes Skye was back, facing her uncertain future. As she stared at the horse now equipped with saddle and bridle, visions of a girl with long dark hair flying into the side of the barn flashed through her mind. This was it.Her life was over. Good riddance, she thought.

  “We’l show you how to saddle and bridle him another time,” Mr. Chambers said as he loosened the horse. “Come here and I’l show you how to lead him.”

  Skye did as she was told — barely.

  “Now,” he said placing the reins in Skye’s hands,

  “you lead a horse from the left side since that’s the side you usual y mount from. Put your right hand up close to his muzzle and hold tightly to the reins with your other hand.”He showed her and then put the reins into her hands.

  Skye squeezed so tightly her knuckles turned white.

  “Relax, honey,” Mrs. Chambers said.

  “Would fainting be relaxed enough?” Skye replied.

  “That’s a good one,” Mr. Chambers said as both he and Mrs. Chambers laughed.

  “I didn’t mean it to be funny,” Skye grumbled, pumping out a sarcastic half-smile as she stood glued to the ground.

  Mr. Chambers walked to the right side of the horse.“Now I’l lead Champ from this side. You just walk along with us. We’l stay in this smal corral and walk in circles. We’l stop and turn him several times so you get the feel of the reins. Ready? Just click your tongue. And when you want to stop, pul gently on the bridle. He’s trained to stop on a dime. God made a horse’s mouth very sensitive. It doesn’t take much to stop him with that bit in his mouth, so be careful. Did you know it tel s us in the Bible that a tiny bit controls a powerful horse like this one?God’s Word has wisdom for every facet of life, even how to handle God’s creatures.”

  What is he babbling about? Skye asked herself .

  The Bible? What does that have to do with horses?

  Over and over, Skye practiced leading Champ around the paddock. She learned how to get him to start and stop and how to tie him to a post. She also learned that she could “ground-tie” this wel -trained horse. No post or brace around? Just drop the reins to the ground and he’d stay put, rain or shine, day or night.

  “It’s ten o’clock, Tom,” Mrs. Chambers said as she leaned on the corral fence. “How about a coffee break? Skye, how about a snack?”

  “Good idea,” Mr. Chambers said. “Skye, tie Champ to the barn like I showed you. After the break you’l be ready for your very first ride.” Take a break? Skye pani
cked. Yeah, I’ll take a break. I’ll probably break my neck!

  chapter five

  Skye’s break hardly lasted long enough for her to catch her breath, let alone plan an escape or come up with a good lie to get out of riding the horse. One thing she’d noticed about the Chambers was that they never let her out of their sight . I’m dead, she moaned inwardly.

  While they sipped coffee and told her how great she did, Skye nibbled off a few chunks of an apple and then laid it on her napkin while she pictured herself in a coffin. The more she thought about it, the more frantic she got, running her fingers through her hair and staring into space.

  “Wel , I think it’s time,” Mr. Chambers said. “Ready to go, Skye?”

  Mrs. Chambers pushed away from the table. “You go ahead while I clean up,” she said, picking up the mugs.“Don’t worry, Skye. You’l do great. I can tel by the way Champ responds that you two wil hit it off.

  You can do anything you put your mind to. I love Philippians four, verse thirteen: ‘I can do everything through him who gives me strength.’ You should try that one on for size.”

  I am so sick of this God stuff, Skye thought. God!

  He doesn’t even know I exist.

  Skye fol owed Mr. Chambers back out to the barn, hating it more than before. “I can’t believe this,” she grumbled, biting hard on her lower lip.

  But now Skye started to argue with herself. I did learn to brush the horse, and I did learn to lead it —

  no, him. Maybe —

  “Here,” Mr. Chambers said as he came out of the barn with a round, black object about the size of a bowling bal . “Put this on. It’s a hardhat to protect you if you fal . State regulations.” He gently positioned the helmet on Skye’s head and snapped the chin strap closed.

  Oh great! she thought.

  “When we show, the hardhat is standard attire with English style,” he said with a mock English accent.

  “You’l see me wearing one when I jump with our Thoroughbred Diamond over those wal s down there.”

  Skye looked in the direction he was pointing and saw three gray-colored stone wal s in the lower field.

  “Of course when we Westerners dude up in our plaid shirts and chaps for shows,” he said with a cowboy drawl, “we wear authentic cowboy hats.

  When you kids practice Western, we think these look kind of funny.”

  Mr. Chambers gently tapped on Skye’s hat. “But I guess a ten-gal on hardhat would look funnier. It’s for your protection anyway,” he said in his normal voice.

  “If you take a tumble, this little hardhat could save your life.”

  “Great,” Skye complained. “Now I not only feel stupid, I look stupid too!” She tugged at the unfamiliar chin strap and swiped her hair back from her face.

  Skye slipped inside the gate as Mr. Chambers untied Champ and led him in front of her. Standing in front of the horse’s muzzle, he tugged gently at the bridle and clicked his tongue.

  Skye studied every move the horse made as he shifted into a stand like a Marine private cal ed to attention. With legs straight, neck arched, and body like a statue, Champ presented a picture of perfection.

  “What’s he doing?” Skye asked.

  “He’s squaring up,” Mr. Chambers answered as he dropped the reins and stepped back. “We told you this horse is intel igent and wel -trained. In his five years he’s been in al kinds of competitions and has blue ribbons to prove it. Show horses must learn to stand like this while the judges look them over.

  This is as easy as we can make it for you to mount.

  He won’t move a muscle until you’re ready. Are you ready?”

  “I — I — guess so,” Skye squeaked.

  Mr. Chambers retrieved the reins, placed one on each side of Champ’s neck, and then gathered them at the saddle. “Al right, come to the left side and put your foot in the stirrup.” He pointed to the large leather loop dangling from the saddle.

  Skye’s wobbly knees dragged her to the horse’s side.And with her teeth embedded in her lip, she reluctantly placed her right foot in the stirrup.

  “Whoa! The other foot! If you mount that way, you’l be driving his tail!” Mr. Chambers laughed and pointed to the front of the saddle. “Now grab the reins and the horn and with your other hand grab the back of the saddle.”

  “Horn?” Skye shriveled up her face in a question mark.

  “That little knobby thing that sticks up on the front of the saddle. English riders cal it a pommel.” Skye did as she was told, even though panic caused her eyes to widen and body to shake. “Tel him not to run!”

  “He won’t run. Now up you go!” Mr. Chambers hunched down and pushed his right shoulder under Skye’s backside, launching her straight up onto the horse.

  “I don’t want to do this!” Skye cried as she plopped into the saddle.

  Mr. Chambers grabbed the cheek strap of the bridle, ignoring Skye’s objection. “When you learn to ride English, you’l put one rein in each hand, but you’re learning Western style now. Put both reins in one hand and keep the other hand on the horn. He’s been trained to neck rein. Al you have to do is lay the reins on either side of his neck and he’l turn. Got it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, stick your foot through the other stirrup. Let me see if it’s the right length.” Mr. Chambers checked a strap underneath Champ’s leg. “Fine and dandy. Your legs should be slightly bent like this, and your feet should rest comfortably in the stirrups —

  the front part of your feet, that is. When you get a good pair of cowboy boots it’l be much easier to keep your heels where they should be, in back of the stirrups and down.

  “Now I’l lead Champ. You just hold the reins loosely. Whatever you do, don’t pul hard. Let him have his head. I’l be right here beside you. Ready?”

  “Noooo,” Skye said, sitting on the horse like she had a rod down her back.

  “Relax!” Mrs. Chambers yel ed from the fence. “Let Champ do the work. You just enjoy the ride.”

  “Since he’s so wel trained , ” Skye said sarcastical y, “can he brush his own teeth?” She squeezed the horn like she was trying to open a brand-new jar of pickles.

  “Skye, you crack me up,” she laughed. With Mr.

  Chambers leading and Skye hanging on for dear life, Champ walked as slow as a turtle inside the corral.

  “Hold him! He’s gonna run! Hold him!” Skye screamed.

  “You’re doing great!” Mrs. Chambers said in encouragement.

  Around they walked, stopping, turning, and walking again. On the outside Skye was a scared rabbit hanging on for dear life. On the inside she was starting to love Champ.

  “I hate this! I hate animals! I hate . . .” Skye paused, struck by the realization that she was riding a beautiful show horse. She felt proud and free as a bird.

  “Wow!” she yel ed. “I can do this! I can real y do this! Hey, look, everybody! I’m riding a horse!”

  “Way to go, Skye,” Mr. Chambers said as he continued leading her in a circle.

  “Ride ’em, cowgirl!” Mrs. Chambers yel ed. “I knew you could do it!”

  A shot of courage surged through Skye. She

  released her hand from the horn, reaching cautiously toward Champ’s neck. Gently, Skye crawled her fingers under his thick, flowing mane and stroked his coat, which was warm from the rays of the sun — as warm as her now not-so-angry heart. She took a deep breath and smiled.

  “Good boy, Champ,” she said. She felt herself becoming part of the horse, part of something she thought she hated. “You are real y cool!” Over the next few days the Chambers monitored Skye while she spent hours on Champ, riding him in the corral, learning to saddle and bridle him, brushing him, and loving him. The “I-hate-animals” part of her had been replaced by a glow inside that drew her to the beautiful horse, as wel as to Tip and Ty.

  “You’re a natural-born rider,” both Mr. and Mrs.

  Chambers said as they taught Skye. By Friday she was out in the pasture
learning to ride while Mr.

  Chambers used a lunging line on Champ. Already she knew how to use her legs to shift the horse’s weight while jogging in circles.“Left lead! Right lead!

  Back him up! Use your knees!” She had never been given so many orders in such a short time, but now she didn’t mind. She didn’t mind at al .

  On Tuesday afternoon while Skye stood in Champ’s stal brushing him and combing his mane and tail, Morgan motored into the barn with a bridle on her lap and a lead rope in her hands. She was headed for one of the stal s.

  Skye paused and leaned out over the bottom half of the Dutch door, watching her pass. Final y, overcome with curiosity, she said, “Hey! What’s up?” Morgan stopped and turned her chair toward Skye. “Tuesday’s one of my days to give Blaze a workout. We’re getting ready for the horse show in August.”

  “What do you do? Walk the horses, brush them, or what?”

  “Duh!” Morgan jested as she poked her index finger in her cheek and made a face. “What do you think I do? Just sit in this chair twenty-four seven?

  The dun mare down in the last stal is mine.”

  “No way,” Skye laughed. “You can’t be serious.

  How can you ride a horse?”

  “Come on,” Morgan said. “I’l show you.” She headed toward the end of the barn.

  Skye slipped through the half door and placed the currycomb in a bucket outside the stal .

  “I only need a little help with the gear and then, of course, getting on,” Morgan said, swinging open the wooden gate to Blaze’s stal . “Here, Blaze.” The horse gently stepped in front of Morgan and lowered her head into the girl’s lap. Morgan clipped the lead rope on Blaze’s halter and motored out of the barn with Skye fol owing far behind them.

  Outside, Morgan tied Blaze to a post next to a wooden ramp and platform with railings that looked like a porch with no house. Skye watched as the horse squared up like she had probably done a zil ion times before.

  Mr. Chambers came around from the back of the barn carrying a blanket and a strange-looking saddle with a high horn and a higher back. He placed them on Blaze, tightening the cinch.