A Horse to Love Page 9

  “Way to go!” Mr. Chambers said as Morgan pul ed Blaze next to Champ. “Another one for your col ection.” He shook Morgan’s hand and patted Blaze on the neck.

  “Great job,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Skye, as soon as they check the roster, they’l cal for your class. Let me see if your number is fastened tightly.” She ran her fingers along the large number 77 attached to the back of Skye’s vest.

  Mr. Chambers checked Champ’s bit, the cinch, and the stirrup lengths. “Now remember, listen careful y to what the judge tel s you to do. And don’t forget your number. Seventy-seven! Sometimes when it’s a close cal with one or two others, the judge wil cal your number to repeat a maneuver.”

  “Seventy-seven!” Skye reached up to her hat, adjusting it one more time squarely on her head.

  “Hey, Skye!” Morgan said as she pivoted Blaze toward the ring. “Look over on the top row of the grandstand. Al the kids from youth group are there.”

  “I see Robin and Sooze too,” Mrs. Chambers said.

  Skye looked at the top row where she saw a long line of familiar faces waving and hol ering.

  “Oh no!” Skye moaned with a hint of surprise.

  “Chad’s there too!”

  “Chad?” Morgan teased. “What about Chad?” Skye’s racing heart started to race even faster, and once again her face flushed.

  “Attention,” the announcer blared. “Al entries for the Intermediate Western Pleasure Class please enter the ring.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Chambers turned toward Skye.

  “Okay, that’s your signal,” Mr. Chambers said. “Let’s have a quick prayer.” He took hold of Champ’s bridle.

  Mrs. Chambers stepped to the front of the horse beside her husband. “Okay, Tom.” The Chambers and Morgan bowed their heads. Skye stared at Champ’s ears.

  “Dear Lord,” Mr. Chambers said, “Skye’s done her best to learn how to ride. We pray now for her and Champ’s safety. We commit this competition into your hands, and ask that you bless her efforts.

  May your perfect wil be done. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Mrs. Chambers added. “We know you’l do your best!”

  Smiling, Skye turned Champ toward the gate. This was what she had trained for al summer and she wasn’t going to mess up now.

  She checked out the parade of horses waiting at the gate, some nervously prancing, some calmly waiting —Quarter Horse, Pinto, Arabian, White, Thoroughbred, Black, Morgan, Bay. As she gently prodded Champ into line, Skye inspected the faces of the eight other contestants in fancy outfits. Half of them, obviously first timers, looked scared and panicky. The other half looked steady and ready, like they’d done this a thousand times before. Al were kids Skye had never seen before, from who knows where, and al anxious to win. Except for one.

  Wait — no! It couldn’t be. Hannah Gilbert? Hannah Gilbert on a horse? Here? At this horse show?

  Skye’s face wrenched like she had just been slapped.As she approached the pack, Skye glared at Hannah dressed in a fancy cowgirl suit and sitting on a golden Palomino on the other side of the cluster.

  “You have got to be kidding!” Skye whispered to Champ as she brought him to a halt. “She rides?

  She shows? I thought al that bragging was about beauty contests — not horse shows!”

  Just as Hannah squared her Stetson, she glanced up and her eyes met Skye’s. Pow! Skye’s invisible fist hit Hannah square between her snooty eyes.

  The look of surprise on Hannah’s face was equal to Skye’s. Her eyes exploded to the size of the silver medal ions on her hat and her face radiated fire that matched her red silk shirt. Then, like her face was melting, it slowly twisted into a nasty glare.

  Skye found herself amused instead of angry.

  Strangely, Hannah Gilbert and al her snootiness now had a different meaning in Skye’s life. Instead of someone to hate, Hannah was just another competitor — someone Skye could beat fairly in front of the whole world. Skye’s face broke into a grin. She raised her hand and wiggled her fingers at Hannah in mock greeting.

  Hannah responded by jerking her head in the air and forcing her attention to the center of the ring.

  She yanked the reins of her horse sharply, pushing him tightly into the front of the pack.

  Skye sat at the rear of the group, calming her nerves, petting Champ, anticipating every move she would make.

  “Attention, ladies and gentlemen,” the loudspeaker echoed, “the Intermediate Western Pleasure Class is now entering the gate.”

  The gate swung outward, and horses and riders entered the ring, walking single-file along the perimeter.

  Skye gulped and squeezed Champ with her legs.

  She

  straightened

  her

  back

  and

  smiled,

  concentrating on her horse’s moves as they brought up the end of the line.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, walk your horses.” Skye concentrated on what she had to do to win.

  “Lope your horses.”

  Careful y, methodical y, Skye fol owed the judge’s instructions as she and Champ circled the ring. Out of the corner of her eye, Skye watched Hannah, whose wel -trained horse knew just what to do.

  Around the riders went, walking, jogging, reversing, stopping, backing up, dismounting and walking away, and remounting.

  Skye glanced at her watch as she mounted a second time. Twenty minutes had passed, and she had ridden Champ to perfection.

  “Good boy, Champ,” she whispered as she reversed and jogged around the ring one more time before lining up with al the rest in the center of the ring.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the judge announced as he surveyed the pack and raised his arm toward the right. “I would like to see forty-three, fifty-two, and seventy-seven, please. The rest of you may step aside.”

  Seventy-seven! That’s me! Skye gulped. No way!

  “You three stand here,” the judge said as he stood in front of Champ.

  A boy on a black Morgan maneuvered next to Skye.

  Skye prodded and Champ squared up, standing without moving anything but his tail to swish some flies. Skye shifted her glance to her left and saw Hannah Gilbert move up next to her. She was smiling at the judge as though that was his payment for giving her a prize.

  “I want each of you to ride a figure eight then lope your horse down to me,” he said, gesturing to where he would be standing. “Slide stop and back up.” Skye and the boy nodded their heads.

  “Yes, sir,” Hannah said.

  “Forty-three, fifty-two, and then seventy-seven.” The judge walked toward the end of the ring.

  Skye’s stomach did somersaults. She watched the boy and Hannah perform and, as far as she could tel , finish without a hitch. This is no time to worry about Hannah Gilbert, Skye told herself as she nudged Champ into his jog. Now remember.

  Easy on the left lead.

  Around the ring, Skye rode in her figure eight, shifting her weight, nudging her horse, neck reining at just the right time. Lope — right lead — careful —

  left lead — easy — just right! Jog — slide stop —

  back up. Perfect!

  Skye smiled as she lined up with the other two in the center of the ring and watched the judge as he walked toward the booth. She glanced at the bleachers. Silently, the spectators waited. She glanced to her left where the Chambers stood at the fence, smiling. Morgan, sitting on Blaze, smiled and gave her a thumbs-up sign. Skye glanced to her right where the boy and Hannah sat patiently while their horses stomped away flies on their legs and swished their tails.

  The judge returned to the ring carrying three ribbons:blue, red, and yel ow.

  “First

  place,

  number

  seventy-seven,

  Skye

  Nicholson and her mount, Champ!” the announcer blared as the judge handed Skye her blue ribbon.

  An explosion of cheers and applause erupted from the grandstand.


  “Second place, number forty-three, Hannah Gilbert and her mount, Prince Goldenrod.”

  Hannah’s smile to the judge was half what it was before. This time there was a twist of spite.

  “Third place, number fifty-two, Wil iam Woods and his mount, Snoopy.”

  “We did it!” Skye said to Champ as she patted his neck. “We did it!” Her eyes shifted to the grandstand as she felt her face flush with excitement. The youth group kids, including Chad, were going wild —

  jumping, cheering, and waving.

  Skye’s eyes darted to Mr. and Mrs. Chambers, who were hugging each other and jumping up and down. Morgan had raised her hands above her head and was applauding. An “I told you so” grin beamed from her extremely proud face.

  “Congratulations. Very nice. Especial y you, young lady,” the judge said to Skye as he tipped his hat and shook her hand. “Very nice, indeed.” Young lady? Skye asked herself. Really? And for the first time in her life, Skye wasn’t angered by those words.

  chapter twelve

  Come and get it!” Mrs. Chambers yel ed from the pavilion under the pines as she fl ipped hamburgers on a gril .

  “Be right there, hon!” Mr. Chambers yel ed. “Okay, kids,” he said as he dismounted, “we’l tie the horses at the barn while we chow down. After the victory celebration for these two” — he gestured to Skye and Morgan, who were stil sitting on their mounts —

  “we’l let you guys try the saddles.” Stil in their Western attire, Skye and Morgan had just fi nished demonstrating their show maneuvers from earlier that afternoon. Skye patted Champ on his neck and eyed Chad like he was made of gold as he laughed and told stupid jokes. He and the others petted the three horses while congratulating the girls on their wins.

  “If you don’t come soon, the hamburgers wil be dog food!” echoed from the pines.

  Mr. Chambers handed the reins to Chad. “Skye, how about you and Chad take the horses while I help Morgan off Blaze.”

  Skye’s face flushed hot and her heart took off again.

  “Man,” Chad said as he took the reins from Mr.

  Chambers and turned to Skye. “You and Champ are quite a team. How long have you been riding?”

  “A few months,” Skye answered. “Champ’s great.”

  “Skye, why don’t you get off and walk with Chad —

  let the horses cool down,” Mr. Chambers said.

  “Yeah,” Chad said. “I’ve got a ton of questions.” Whether it was the blue ribbon hanging on Champ’s bridle or Skye’s racing heart, she couldn’t tel . Al she knew was that suddenly her head bal ooned with pride, the kind that had control ed her life for so long. Suddenly, al she wanted to do was impress Chad one more time. Yanking Champ’s reins to her left, she turned him on a dime. Sensing the excitement, the Quarter Horse pranced and snorted, ready to take off.

  “I’l show you fancy riding!” Skye bragged.

  Skye kicked her horse, and off they ran, charging across the field.

  “What?” Chad stared, eyes wide and mouth open.

  “Where’s she going?” Mr. Chambers yel ed.

  Morgan turned Blaze sharply, staring at Skye and Champ as they raced across the field. “Oh no!” she answered. “She mentioned jumping one day and I told her to forget it. She’s heading toward that wal !”

  “What’s she doing?” Chad yel ed.

  “I’l stop her!” Morgan shouted.

  “No, you stay here!” Mr. Chambers said as he vaulted onto Chief and charged after Skye.

  “Skye! Stop!” he yel ed. “Champ can’t jump! You’l kil yourself!”

  “Come back here!” Morgan yel ed.

  Fiercely, Skye dug her heels into Champ’s sides and prodded him toward the jump. She felt like she was flying. Her hat flew off her head. Her hair blew wildly, making her feel freer than she had ever felt before. “C’mon, Champ. Let’s show ’em!” she yel ed, her mind focused on one thing — the wal — as they charged toward it in a blazing gal op.

  By now Sooze, Robin, and everyone else had become aware that something was happening.

  “Where’s she going?” Robin asked.

  Mrs. Chambers had just placed a large tray of hamburgers on the picnic table when she heard her husband yel and looked up to see Skye racing across the field.

  “Oh no!” she shrieked, ripping off her chef’s hat and running toward the impending disaster.

  Mr. Chambers rode Chief at ful gal op, chasing after Skye. “Come back here!” he yel ed at the top of his lungs, “Skye, stop!”

  The thril of the moment, a mega-chance to show off, blocked Skye’s thoughts from everything but her latest plan. Her wild eyes studied the wal as she charged forward, determined to take Champ over it no matter how high or how dangerous it might be.

  As Mr. Chambers gained ground and closed in, one of Chief’s hooves caught on a clump of obstinate crabgrass and, like tumbleweed in the wind, both horse and rider fel forward. With a thud, Chief barreled head first onto the ground and pinned Mr. Chambers beneath him. In a few seconds it was al over and Chief stood up badly shaken. Mr.

  Chambers did not.

  Just as Skye glanced back to see if Chad was watching, she saw Mr. Chambers in hot pursuit and then watched as horse and rider tumbled to the ground.

  “No!” Skye yel ed. She slid Champ to a stop, only yards from the jump. “Mr. Chambers!” She turned and tore back to where Chief stood quivering, puffing like an engine, his nostrils dilating madly, and sweat oozing from his body. Beside him lay Mr.

  Chambers sprawled on the ground with his head bleeding, his face pale, his body motionless.

  That same horrible fear that had chased her so many times in the past was hot on her heels again.

  The fear that had come from doing wrong and not wanting to get caught. The fear that made her run and hide. The fear that made her cry. The fear that clutched her soul so tightly, she could hardly breathe.

  Skye wanted to help, to see if Mr. Chambers was okay. But she couldn’t move. Skye studied his stil form. She wanted desperately for him to move — to breathe.

  “Chad,” Mrs. Chambers screamed as she ran toward the scene, “cal nine one one! There’s a phone in the barn office! Hurry!”

  Skye sat frozen in the saddle. She steadied Champ as he puffed madly, stil prancing, anxious to complete his course, to run like the wind.

  Skye watched numbly as Morgan and Blaze gal oped toward the unconscious man while Mrs.

  Chambers and the others ran behind, their faces alive with fear. Skye felt like her brain was coated with fuzz. Panic clutched her heart and al she could think to do was run away.

  She yanked Champ’s reins to the right and dug her heels into his sides. In a flash, the two were off, racing across the back of the field, past the wal , past every other jump, and down behind the pond .

  As fast as Champ is, they’ll never catch me! Skye reassured herself.

  “I’l get her!” Skye heard Morgan yel ing.

  “No, I need you here. Let her go!” Mrs. Chambers screamed.

  I’ve killed him! Skye thought frantical y. I’ve gotta get outta here! She jerked Champ to a stop at a gate. In her haste, Skye practical y fel off the horse, fumbled with the latch on the gate, and swung it open before scrambling back on Champ and kicking him sharply. “Let’s go!” Skye yel ed.

  They gal oped down the road, dust flying, until they disappeared into the shadows of the thick woods, running like the wind . . . running away again.

  Skye never looked back.

  chapter thirteen

  Skye sat alone and miserable on a bench at the altar at Piney Hol ow. In minutes Champ’s lightning speed had brought her to the hideaway, far from the horror of what had just happened. She had cooled him down and now sat in front of the stone cross, wondering what had gone so terribly wrong.

  Even though the setting sun ushered a cool evening breeze through the hol ow, Skye sat in a nervous sweat, thinking about the events of the last several months, worrying
about what might happen next.

  “Why do I always mess up?” she cried out to the cross. “Why do I always have to be the big shot? I deserve to go to jail!”

  The Chambers had been wonderful to her. They were tough but fair, and they cared. They had proven it time and time again.

  Morgan cared too and treated her like the sister she never had.

  Then there was Champ.

  Skye turned and looked at the beautiful horse standing in al of his show-gear glory, resting at the rail with his one rear leg cocked at ease. He had given her a reason to live, a reason to care, a reason to love.

  But what about Mr. C? What if he was really dead?

  Skye turned back to the altar and her eyes

  focused on the cross, a symbol of God’s love that meant absolutely nothing to her. This God, whom she didn’t even know existed, loved her? As rotten as she was?

  Skye stumbled to the altar and knelt at the cross, sobbing out her pain and despair.

  “Please, God! He can’t be dead!” she screamed.

  “He can’t be!”

  Behind her she heard the creaking of a saddle as someone dismounted. Footsteps crunched on the gravel.

  “Skye.” A gentle hand touched her shoulder.

  Final y, Skye turned and looked up into swol en, red eyes.

  “Mrs. Chambers, I’m so sorry!” Skye cried.

  “I know, Skye,” Mrs. Chambers said. She pul ed Skye into her embrace and gently kissed the tears on her face. “It’l be al right. I love you.” Mrs. Chambers’ arms wrapped firmly around Skye’s quivering frame. And for the first time in her life, Skye didn’t resist. With an open heart, she welcomed what this woman offered — the tender touch of a mother. Skye sobbed like a love-starved baby. They stood hugging one another for a long time as Skye cried in sorrow for al she had done and suffered through the years.

  Final y, Mrs. Chambers said, “We have to go.”

  “What about Mr. Chambers?” Skye cried. “Is he dead?”

  “No. I’l tel you on the way to the hospital.” Skye sat next to Mrs. Chambers in a waiting room on the third fl oor of Broadview General Hospital, her eyes red and puffy. Pastor Newman and Morgan completed the circle that fil ed a corner of the quiet room draped in midnight shadows.