Joey

by Jennifer Bleakley

  “Come on,” Mike said. “The hard part’s over. Get on out there and enjoy yourself. You’ve earned it.” He kissed the tip of her nose as Joey whinnied and nickered behind them.

  “Besides, your boyfriend’s waiting for you.”

  Kim saw a good crowd gathered around the commitment table as she made her way over to Joey’s paddock.

  A man, a woman, and a young boy stood near the fence. The little boy, who appeared to be around seven or eight, was holding his hands over his ears and rocking back and forth on his heels.

  The woman knelt down in front of him and began to speak, but the boy pushed her away. The man seemed to be looking for the easiest escape route. Kim was conflicted. Should she walk over to greet them, or would they rather be left alone? Well, she reasoned, you did just say everyone here is family. She smiled as she approached the trio. A flash of embarrassment crossed the woman’s face before being replaced with a bright smile.

  “Hi, I’m Kim. Welcome to Hope Reins. I’m glad you came out today.”

  “I’m Rebekah,” the woman said, “and this is my husband, James, and our son, Nathan.” She put her hands on her son’s shoulders, but he immediately pushed them off.

  The boy flung his head to the right, rubbing his cheek on his shoulder, and made several unintelligible sounds before turning away from the adults to stare at Joey and Speckles.

  Kim looked at the parents. “How did you hear about us?”

  “A friend invited us to come today. You have really helped her daughter, and she thought that maybe . . .” Rebekah’s words trailed off as she gazed at her son.

  A rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells” erupted near the Christmas tree.

  Nathan cupped his hands over his ears and began rocking forcefully back and forth.

  “We should probably get Nathan home,” James said apologetically.

  He looked at his wife. Rebekah’s expression was a mixture of sadness and defeat. It was clear she had hoped for a different experience here. Kim’s heart went out to her. It was obvious that their son had some kind of special need, most likely autism. Kim smiled at the boy and asked, “Has Nathan ever seen a horse up close?”

  Rebekah shook her head.

  “Would he like to?”

  Rebekah knelt down in front of her son. “Nathan, would you like to see a horse?”

  Nathan shook his head wildly and made a guttural sound. Rebekah, however, did not seem the least bit deterred.

  “Nathan,” she repeated, extending her finger in front of the boy’s face, then slowly pointing toward Joey. “See the horse?”

  Nathan’s eyes followed his mother’s finger.

  “Hoorr!” Nathan shouted, noticing the large animal.

  His hazel eyes widened a moment, then he jumped up. The indifference of a moment ago had been instantly replaced with unfiltered joy.

  The power of a horse, Kim thought with gratitude.

  “That’s Joey.”

  “Nathan, can you say hi to Joey?”

  Nathan opened and closed his fist in Joey’s direction. “Hh-iiiee,” he said.

  Joey was standing about twenty feet away, but Kim was confident he knew he was being watched.

  Kim gave Rebekah and James a quick rundown of Joey’s past and how he came to Hope Reins. Joey’s large head was tilted to the side—he seemed to be listening in.

  “How does he make his way around the field?” James asked.

  Kim explained the accident with the fencing, the solution with the wind chimes, and now the unique relationship Joey had formed with Speckles.

  “Speckles herds Joey around the paddock like a border collie.”

  “Wow, so Speckles is like a seeing-eye horse for Joey,” Rebekah said, smiling.

  “He really is,” Kim said. What would we have done without you, Speckles?

  James crouched down next to Nathan. “Hey, buddy. Ms. Kim just told us that Joey can’t see. He’s blind. That means his eyes don’t work.”

  Nathan squeezed his eyes shut. “Daark! Hoorrss, daark.”

  He’s trying to put himself in Joey’s place.

  “Nathan,” Kim said, delighted when the boy glanced at her, “Joey can’t see, but he knows you’re here. Do you want him to come over so you can touch him?”

  “Noo-noo. Noo-noo!” the boy shouted, violently shaking his head.

  Kim stood up. “I’m so sorry,” she said, unsure of what she had said wrong, and feeling awful for upsetting him.

  “It’s okay,” Rebekah assured her. “Nathan has a sensory processing disorder and doesn’t like being touched. I think he assumes no one else does either.” James began talking softly into Nathan’s ear.

  “His autism and sensory problems cause him to withdraw, making social interaction very difficult.” The soft-spoken mother expressed great sorrow over her son’s lack of friends. He seemed not to have the interest or ability to connect with anyone.

  “I worry so much about what kind of life he is going to have,” she admitted.

  Nathan walked up to the fence and squeezed the top rail until his knuckles turned white.

  Rebekah lowered her voice as she added, “More than anything, I just want to connect with my son.”

  James put his arm around his wife, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. The two watched their son observing the horses. I can’t even imagine not being able to hug my children, Kim found herself thinking.

  Speckles walked up to Joey, and when Joey tried to nuzzle his pasture-mate, Speckles snapped at Joey as if to say, Not in the mood. Joey stepped away, giving Speckles the space he needed.

  Just as Speckles had figured out Joey’s limitations, Joey had figured out Speckles’. The two stood several feet apart, heads lowered over the thinning grass.

  Nathan started reciting what sounded like lines from a movie or TV show. He spoke so clearly that it surprised Kim. Apparently, reciting lines came much easier to him than spontaneous conversation. As the boy was speaking, there was another surprise. Speckles began walking toward Nathan. What is he up to?

  Now it was time for Speckles to be introduced to the family. “Speckles came to us at the same time as Joey. Sadly, he also has a history of abuse and abandonment. We discovered shortly after getting him that he is in pain almost every day, so much so that he can’t be ridden. But he definitely has a purpose here.”

  “He’s Joey’s eyes,” Rebekah whispered.

  “Yes, he is.”

  Speckles walked closer to Nathan. The boy stared at the speckled horse as he approached, yet Nathan never moved—his hands continued to grip the fence rail. Speckles stopped in front of the boy. Then, as if in slow motion, he lowered his brown-and-white head over Nathan’s hand. The boy jerked his hand away, looking as if he were going to cry.

  Speckles abruptly flicked his head to the side, and Kim began to approach him to gently shoo him away. But before she could take a second step, Nathan put his hand back on the rail.

  James held up his hand in a “let’s see what happens” gesture.

  Speckles again lowered his head toward the boy. This time the boy reached his right index finger out and delicately touched Speckles right above the nostrils.

  “Noosse,” he said dragging out each sound.

  Kim heard Rebekah gasp. “Yes, that is Speckles’ nose,” she commended. “Speckles has owies,” she added cautiously. “He doesn’t like big touches.”

  Big touches. I like that wording.

  Nathan pulled his hand away and stepped back. Speckles leaned his head over the fence in search of the boy. Kim had never seen Speckles seek out a child like this before. Nathan once again reached up and touched the same spot on Speckles.

  The horse blew a puff of air onto Nathan’s finger. The boy immediately pulled his hand away. Rebekah tensed up, and Kim prepared herself for the boy’s scream. But instead she heard what sounded a lot like a seal bark. He’s laughing!

  Rebekah grabbed her husband’s hand as her son leaned into Speckles and blew on the hors
e. Speckles answered with a snort. Nathan mimicked the sound.

  What was happening?

  The magnitude of the moment was almost more than Kim could process. Horse and boy stood facing each other for several minutes as if communicating something profound that only the two of them understood. Eventually, Joey nickered impatiently, and Speckles sauntered over to him. The spell broken, Rebekah dropped to her knees in front of her son.

  “You touched Speckles,” she said with breathless wonder. “You are so brave.”

  Nathan tilted his head to the side and looked at his mother as if seeing her for the first time. Tentatively, he reached out his right index finger and touched her nose.

  Kim wanted to shout a prayer of thanksgiving, but instead she and James stood transfixed, afraid to make a sound.

  Nathan was still studying his mother, his finger still on her nose. A hint of a smile formed on Rebekah’s lips as she exhaled a short puff of air on Nathan’s finger. He instantly jerked his hand away.

  Rebekah’s face fell.

  But a moment later, Nathan put his finger up to his own nose and exhaled. He reached for his mother’s nose again, and she exhaled for the second time. Nathan did not pull away. Instead, the young boy threw his head back and laughed his barking chortle.

  Rebecca raised one finger and cautiously moved it toward her son’s nose.

  The boy started to duck, but Rebekah stopped and asked, “Mama’s finger touch Nathan’s nose?”

  Nathan cast a glance at Speckles before turning back to his mother and bending his head toward her. The touch was gentle and delicate. Nathan responded with a forceful, but joyful, exhale. Kim didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. Both seemed appropriate reactions to the miracle she had just witnessed.

  Delight—a look of sheer love—shone from Rebekah’s face. Her eyes were riveted on her son, her face flushed with emotion, her neck red and splotchy. Kim couldn’t remember ever seeing someone look lovelier.

  She looked at the two horses in the paddock, who had no way of understanding the gift they had just given this family. Two horses that many would say were broken and unusable had just brought hope into the life of a mother desperate to reach her son.

  Kim hugged Rebekah and James and urged them to visit the ranch again, before she joined the fun of making s’mores.

  “That was really something,” said Debra, the woman from WRAL. She had been standing near Joey’s gate when Nathan started interacting with the horses.

  “It really was,” Kim agreed, still moved by what had just happened.

  “I take it that kind of thing happens a lot out here?” Debra asked.

  “It really does. Not always in such an intense or immediate manner. But real change happens here. I just pray it will continue.”

  Debra’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Well, maybe a little publicity might help. I’ll be in touch.”

  As the last of the guests left, Kim headed to the commitment table, where Barb was frantically pecking away on a calculator. In front of her were several neatly stacked piles of five-, ten-, and twenty-dollar bills, dozens of checks, and an enormous stack of commitment cards.

  “Oh my goodness!” Kim gasped. “Is all of that . . . ?”

  “Yes ma’am. Enough to keep us going for at least another year!”

  “Seriously?” Kim’s heart began to flutter. First Nathan and Rebekah, and now this.

  Overwhelmed at God’s provision, Kim started to cry. Had it only been four weeks ago that she had sat with Joey and feared losing him and all the other horses? So much had changed in such a short amount of time, and yet in the back of her mind, she still wondered if it would be enough. It was a constant battle.

  Walking in blind faith is not for wimps.

  CHAPTER 15

  ONE DAY A FEW WEEKS LATER, Lauren arrived for her normal training time with Speckles. His pain had increased so much that he simply couldn’t handle more than a once-a-week workout. After getting her two girls set up at a picnic table to work on their math assignment, she headed to the tack shed.

  What a beautiful day to be training my favorite horse! The noonday sun had chased lingering clouds away. Lauren glanced at her watch as she headed toward paddock two. Sarah was due in about ten minutes to work with Joey.

  The women had decided to try training both horses during the same time frame, hoping the dual session would help to ease some of Joey’s separation anxiety. Although Joey’s training really just consisted of walking him around the arena or round pen, it was still important to work with the horse in settings outside of his field.

  Debra from WRAL had been true to her word. A recent article about Hope Reins had been posted on the station’s website, with a picture of Joey in his Santa hat. Inquiries about sessions had increased, with many callers specifically requesting to meet the handsome Appaloosa.

  “Hey, boys!” Lauren called out, opening the gate. “Are you ready for some fun?”

  Joey came trotting right over, but Speckles didn’t move. His stance seemed awkward, his eyes wide. He’s hurting a lot today. Joey followed Lauren to his tense pasture-mate.

  “Hey, speckled monster,” she said, approaching slowly. “What’s up? Not feeling good?”

  Speckles snorted. He pinned his ears back, moved them forward, then pinned them back again. The motion reminded Lauren of her oldest daughter’s habit of opening and closing the refrigerator door while trying to decide on a snack.

  Speckles held his back leg slightly off the ground and eyed Lauren warily, seeing the halter in her hand.

  “It’s okay, bud,” she said, dropping the halter on the ground. “Let’s just hang out.”

  Lauren knew that any movement would help Speckles loosen his joints and hopefully alleviate some pain. But she had also spent enough time with him to know that if he thought she expected something from him, he would dig in his heels and refuse to move. Where’s a hanging side mirror when you need one? That would surely get him moving.

  Lauren stood between Joey and Speckles, trying to formulate a plan. As she deliberated, Sarah arrived. Joey headed in his trainer’s direction, and the two of them left for the round pen.

  That’s it! Follow the leader. Lauren moved several feet away from Speckles and pulled a clump of grass.

  “Yum, yum! Oh, Speckles, this is delicious!” she exaggerated, pretending to eat the grass.

  Brown ears pointed in her direction, then his head slightly cocked to the side. Lauren dropped the clump and ran to another spot, tapping on the ground.

  “Speckles! Look at this clump. Wow!”

  She felt ridiculous. And then he moved.

  Speckles, eyes narrowed and assessing, took several steps toward her. He lowered his head where her finger had just been and ate the grass. Stunned for a moment that it had actually worked, Lauren just watched him eat before repeating the exercise. Again and again she pointed out grass, and again and again the hurting horse followed. She played until her own legs began to hurt, then she sat down in the field.

  “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we, Speckles?”

  The paddock gate opened, and Sarah led Joey back into the field. He cautiously approached his pasture-mate. Would he be accepted? Joey’s nose bumped Speckles’ ear. Lauren held her breath. Speckles didn’t move. Thank goodness. Joey was allowed back in. Speckles’ pain had diminished just enough that Joey could once again get close.

  Lauren sighed in relief. Speckles began to relax.

  But as Lauren gathered up the tack, she couldn’t let go of a nagging question: How much longer until the next crisis?

  The answer came sooner than anyone could have anticipated. Week after week, Speckles continued to decline. Eventually, any kind of training was out of the question.

  “The best we can do is try to make him comfortable,” Dr. Gallagher said after examining Speckles at the ranch one evening.

  Kim, Lauren, Sarah, and Barb gathered around the vet.

  “Speckles’ various problems have escalated to the
point where treating one will severely impact the others. His only real option now is pain management. I am sorry that I don’t have better news.”

  Dr. Gallagher gave Kim two different medications for Speckles and left the four women to absorb the news. They stood in silence for several minutes.

  Lauren felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Speckles had always had good days and bad days. Less than four months ago he had been doing so well—well enough to steal a side mirror. Lauren had just assumed his bad days would eventually end and her beloved speckled monster would once again emerge to wreak havoc on unsuspecting volunteers.

  “Okay, girls,” Kim said, breaking the silence. “Our job is to take care of our Speckles and keep him as comfortable as possible. He’s part of the Hope Reins family, and so we do what we need to do, right?”

  Her tone energized the dejected women—Lauren most of all. Kim grabbed her hand and then Sarah’s. Each woman took the hand of the one standing next to her, and they prayed. For comfort and healing for Speckles, strength for them, and faith to endure whatever was to come.

  Lauren went to the ranch often, just to be with Speckles. On days when his pain was tolerable, she went into the paddock. Joey would stand on one side of Speckles, often resting his head on Speckles’ back, while Lauren stood on the other side—sometimes brushing him, sometimes stroking him, but always happy just to be with him.

  Other days were heartbreaking. When it was clear his pain was so intense that not even Joey could get close, Lauren would pull a chair up to the fence and sit and read to him. He would pace and whinny, his bloodshot eyes searching wildly for relief. All the while she would keep reading, forcing herself to maintain a steady rhythm, willing herself not to break down and cry.

  It was so hard to watch him decline. So heartbreaking to see Joey try to console his friend only to be rejected with a nip or a half-hearted kick. Speckles would create an invisible perimeter around him when his pain was too bad. Joey, somehow figuring out where the perimeter was, would stand right on the line. Not too close, but never too far.

  March 19 dawned bright and clear at Hope Reins. Clumps of daffodils seemed to dance in the morning breeze. Tulips, ready to burst forth in full bloom any day now, filled the mulched beds. An intoxicating scent—was it honeysuckle or jasmine?—floated in the air as Lauren walked past the Hope Reins garden.