Whispering Hope

by Marsha Hubler

  “We’ll just let him calm down for an hour or so before I try to get him into the barn,” Mr. Chambers said.

  “Dad,” Skye said, “is he damaged beyond repair?”

  “Well,” Mr. Chambers said, “I’ve always wanted a wild Mustang from the West, and I think I got my wish this time. I bought him because I think he’s trainable. There’s always hope. He just needs some TLC, but it’s going to take some time. We’ll get that puppy in shape sooner or later.”

  Wanda sneered, “Puppy? Yeah, right. He’s more like a raging werewolf.”

  Mr. Chambers looked directly into Wanda’s eyes. “When animals are hurt as badly as this one, it takes them just as long to get over the pain as it does kids that are hurt.”

  “But there’s always hope.” Mrs. Chambers also gave Wanda her undivided attention. “Especially when we have God’s help.”

  Wanda folded her arms and looked away.

  Hmm, Skye observed. She doesn’t have much to say now. “When can Chad and I start working with Rebel?” she asked as she shifted her attention to the horse.

  Mr. Chambers smoothed his mustache and then rubbed his chin. “Let’s plan for a couple of weeks from now. While you’re at school, I’ll start the horse whispering process and get the kick out of him. From that point on, you and Chad can continue.”

  “Yeah.” Morgan giggled. “Rebel doesn’t know what’s coming. In no time at all, he’ll change from an I-don’t-wanna-do-nothing Mustang grouch to an I-wanna-be-your-equine-friend happy trail horse.”

  “No way,” Wanda jeered. “This I gotta see.”

  Mrs. Chambers gave Skye and Morgan a radiant smile. “Greater miracles than that have happened at Keystone Stables. Haven’t they, girls?”

  “Yup,” Skye said.

  “You’ve said it, Mrs. C.,” Morgan added.

  Mr. Chambers slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Well, dear, what’s cooking in the kettle for supper? I’m so hungry I could eat a horse—ah, but not that one.” He pointed toward Rebel.

  “Steak and baked potatoes on the grill,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Minus the horse.”

  “We could have horseradish,” Skye suggested with a giggle.

  “Okay, enough horsing around,” Mr. Chambers said. “Let’s mosey on in to the feed stall.”

  While everyone joined in a hearty laugh, Skye noticed that Wanda didn’t move a muscle.

  “I’m going to mend a fence down in the pasture,” Mr. Chambers said to Skye and Chad as he hopped in his truck and started to pull away from the training corral. “I’ll be within earshot if you need me.”

  “Okay, Mr. C.,” Chad said. “Thanks.”

  On a beautiful April afternoon two Saturdays after Rebel arrived, Skye and Chad managed to get him into the training corral where they were about to begin their horse whispering techniques. Although Mr. Chambers had, indeed, gotten the kick out of him and had begun working him on a longe line, Rebel still balked and pranced the opposite direction when any human got too close. He made it perfectly clear that as far as allowing anyone to touch him or tack him, his answer was a clear-as-crystal “no way.”

  “Easy, boy,” Skye said, closing the gate behind her. She cautiously detached the lead rope from the horse’s halter and coiled the rope in her hands. Chad stood along the sidelines ready to offer assistance when needed. He squared his black Stetson and spoke softly. “Skye, remember what Sam said at the horse whispering camp. An abused horse takes longer to bond with us than a wild one fresh off the plains. Just take your time.”

  “Gotcha,” she said. As she carefully reached to touch Rebel’s muzzle, the animal reared and whinnied, his eyes wild with fear.

  Skye stepped back, allowing the horse to relax. He pawed the ground, snorted, and backed up. Pivoting his powerful body, he faced his long flowing tail toward Skye. In stark defiance, he once again stood perfectly still and focused on the barn. With ears pricked forward and neck arched out over the fence, his sleek black-and-white coat sparkled in the warm spring sun.

  “He is one gorgeous hunk of horse flesh, isn’t he, Skye?” Chad said.

  “He sure is, and I can’t wait to ride him. And I’m going to, sooner or later.” Skye took one end of her lead rope and started twirling it. Advancing toward Rebel, she spoke loudly to get his attention. “Hey, Rebel, boy. Let’s do some longeing without the rope. What do you say, fella?”

  Starting the process to bond with the horse, Skye used an advance-and-retreat method that she had practiced at camp. Gently, she worked Rebel by pitching one end of her long lead rope at his hindquarters while talking to him, thus forcing him to retreat or circle the perimeter of the corral. In the center of the corral, Skye’s eyes and body followed every move the trotting horse made.

  Skye planned that when Rebel tired of running and stopped, she would try to advance, staring eyeball to eyeball with the horse, and reach to touch his face. If he would allow her to make contact, she then would retreat and wait for him to come to her. At that point, Rebel would recognize her as the leader of his herd. She and the horse would bond, and he’d trust her enough to allow her to touch him all over his body, further his training, and make him a reliable mount. But Skye knew this horse had been damaged—badly—and it might take weeks before she would see anything happen at all.

  For several minutes, Skye forced Rebel to retreat. When she withdrew the rope and he stopped, she made him advance. Just as her hand touched the horse’s nose, a truck passing in front of Keystone Stables backfired, sending Rebel into a frenzy. He jerked up his head, let out a screeching whinny, and pivoted toward the fence, turning his tail toward Skye. With another loud nicker, he arched his neck and dug his hooves firmly into the ground. While he snorted, his ears swiveled like some kind of equine radar machine.

  “Hey, Chad, old buddy!” Skye heard a familiar, and unwelcomed, voice yelling from the backyard. She slipped out of the corral and joined Chad at the same time Wanda arrived in her boys’ clothes, baseball cap and all.

  “Hi, Wanda,” Skye said.

  “What’s happening?” Chad said, tipping his Stetson toward the girl.

  Wanda punched Chad in the arm and threw a quick glance at Rebel. “Looks like nothing much is happening with Dog Meat there. What a trip.”

  “Wanda, all good things take time,” Skye said. “I think we would have made progress if that truck hadn’t backfired.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Wanda slurred and in the next breath said, “Hey, Chad, how about a game of Nine Ball? The woman said I could take a half hour break from my science project while she ran to the grocery store.” Wanda pointed her thumb toward the house, then swirled her index finger. “Whoopdeedoo. A measly half hour.”

  “It’s better than nothing,” Skye said.

  Wanda completely ignored Skye. “What’d ya say, Chad?”

  “Maybe later,” Chad said, reaching for the rope in Skye’s hands. “I want to try my hand with Rebel.”

  “Can I watch?” Wanda asked Chad.

  “As long as you stay back here and don’t make any noise,” he said. “His kind don’t like distractions.”

  “I want to watch you, not him,” Wanda said, smirking at Skye.

  Skye felt her face turn red hot, hotter than it had been in ages. Bubbling like a volcano ready to explode, anger that she thought she had long learned to control turned her stomach upside down. She stared at Wanda, gave her a return smirk, and turned toward the house. “I’m going for some lemonade. Anyone else want some?”

  “Sure,” Chad said.

  “Got any beer?” Wanda cackled.

  “You’ll find that three miles down the road,” Skye said.

  “I’ll pass,” Wanda said. “Watching Chad is all I want right now.”

  Ignoring Wanda, Chad crawled into the training coral and focused on Rebel.

  Tears flooding her eyes, Skye rushed into the house, ran into her bedroom, slammed the door, and crashed onto her bed.

  “I don’t like her. God, I
know it’s wrong, but I just don’t like her,” she said, and soaked her bedspread with tears.

  Chapter Six

  Scratched again!” Skye said after her cue ball dropped in a side pocket of the pool table.

  “I’ll never be as good as Chad—or her—at this game,” Skye lamented.

  Morgan sat at a computer playing her favorite online game, “Battleship,” with someone from Spain. “This is too cool,” she said. “This kid’s in tenth grade too, and he’s learning English. His name is Francisco.” Morgan paused and then said, “What was that, Skye? You’ll never get as good as who?”

  “Wanda.” Skye mounted her cue stick in a wall rack and sat next to Morgan. “It’s useless.”

  “Skye, she’s been playing for years,” Morgan said. “So what’s the big deal anyway? You can run circles around her when it comes to horses, or homework, or just being a decent human being. All she’s got going for her is a good game of pool.”

  “Chad can shoot real good too,” Skye said.

  Morgan relaxed into her wheelchair and turned toward Skye. “Ah ha, I knew it. You’re worried about her moving in on him, aren’t you?”

  Without an answer, Skye looked at her monitor and turned on her computer.

  Morgan tapped Skye on the shoulder. “Hey,” she said.

  Skye looked at her foster sister and figured it was time for a sisterly chat. Morgan’s so good at these things, she thought. “Oh, all right. Yes, I am worried.”

  “Thought so.” Morgan nodded and her freckled face lit up with an understanding smile. “Skye, you know exactly what Mrs. C. would say if you were having this conversation with her, don’t you?”

  “Yes-s-s.” Skye ran her fingers through her hair and turned back to the computer. She loaded a dirt bike racing game and worked the controls.

  “You’re way too young to date, and so is Chad. He’s not your territory. And besides, God has your future—and your love life—all planned out.”

  “I know,” Skye said. “It’s really stupid to feel this way, and I think I need God to help me with this mess. But Chad and I are such good friends. I don’t want anything, or anyone, to spoil it.”

  “Nothing’s going to spoil it.” Morgan said. “And you don’t need to worry about Wanda. I’m sure Chad’s not interested in her—she’s not his type. Give me a break.”

  “I know that he wants a nice Christian girl,” Skye said. “He told me that once.”

  “Well, need I say more?”

  “When I look at Wanda, I can’t believe that I was like that once.”

  “I don’t think I was that bad,” Morgan said, “but it’s only because of God that I’m where I am today.”

  “Did you know Wanda smokes?” Skye asked. “One day last week I saw her throwing a cigarette butt in the yard when she came out of the barn. She’d better be careful around all that hay.”

  “Yeah, I can smell smoke on her. Yesterday I went into the bathroom right after she came out, and it smelled like a tobacco factory in there.”

  “Do you think Mom and Dad know she’s smoking?”

  “What do you think?”

  Skye rolled her eyes. “Nothing gets past them.”

  “I’m sure Mrs. C. is counseling Wanda about all this stuff. But nothing’s going to change overnight.”

  “Speaking of overnight,” Skye said, “I thought I heard some strange noises a few nights since Wanda moved in. Do you think she prowls around when we’re all asleep? I bet she’s using the phone to call her gang in Harrisburg.”

  “With her room at the other end of the hall, I haven’t heard much,” Morgan said. “But I heard Mrs. C. talking to her one day about Wanda not sleeping in her own bedroom.”

  “What? Where’s she sleeping?”

  “Believe it or not, either in the hayloft in the barn or here on the pool table.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. Who wouldn’t want to sleep in a nice soft bed? That is weird.”

  “I have a feeling that Wanda’s had it pretty rough. Who knows? Maybe she doesn’t even have a bed at home. Remember, she’s been running with a gang for years. She’s probably used to sleeping on the floor more than on a bed. And I heard Mrs. C. talking to Wanda about some bad dreams Wanda was having. So there must be something going on there that we don’t know about.”

  “When you think about that, it’s really sad. She’d almost be pretty if she’d clean up her act. I’ve never seen such long curly eyelashes before. I wonder if anything or anyone will ever convince her to change.”

  “God can,” Morgan said. “But we’ve got to be willing to do our part. We need to just try to help her. She needs Jesus in her life before anything else starts to change.”

  “Even though I don’t like her, I’d really like to help her, if she’d just listen to some advice. We’ve been where she is. But for now, I guess the best thing we can do is stay out of her way.”

  “Sooner or later, Skye, she’ll realize that she needs a friend—a real friend. That’s when we need to be ready to be one.”

  “I’d like to be there for her when that day comes,” Skye said. “I really would.”

  “Me, too,” Morgan said, backing her wheelchair away from the computer and glancing at her watch. “Well, I think it’s time to get supper ready. Mrs. C. should be here any minute.”

  Skye glanced at her watch. “Wow, I didn’t realize it was so late. If you want to toss the salad, I’ll stir-fry the chicken. We’ll have the stuff ready in the shake of a horse’s tail.”

  “Not Rebel’s.” Morgan laughed. “He’s too stubborn.”

  “Girls,” Mr. Chambers said as he wiped his mustache with a napkin, “this supper is terrific. You’re getting better in the kitchen every day.”

  The three girls sat with Mr. and Mrs. Chambers at the dining room table enjoying teenage gourmet cooking. Tippy and Tyler found their usual place on the floor, one on each side of Mrs. Chambers’ chair. The topics of conversation varied as much as the colors of the rain-bow. Everyone joined in except Wanda, who barely ate anything and played with her food. Her answers were curt when anyone directed a question her way. With her bedraggled hair making its own statement, she crouched in her chair and didn’t crack a smile.

  “I almost burned the chicken, Dad,” Skye said. “It’s a good thing Morgan was there to keep me focused.”

  “Were you staring out the window at the horses?” Mrs. Chambers asked. “I know where your heart is.”

  “Guilty, your honoress.” Skye giggled. “Morgan’s the cook, I’m the equestrian, and Wanda’s the pool shark.”

  “Even pool sharks have to eat,” Mr. Chambers said. Everyone laughed but Wanda.

  Mr. Chambers took one last bite of his tossed salad. “Now don’t forget, girls, that next week we have special meetings at church from Monday to Wednesday. Our missions conference starts on Sunday.”

  When the subject of church and God came up, Wanda slid down further into her chair.

  “Oh, I did forget,” Skye said.

  “Me too,” said Morgan. “I can’t wait to see the slides of South Africa.”

  Without looking up, Wanda spouted out, “What—is a missions conference?”

  Mrs. Chambers took a sip of water. “Wanda.”

  I know she’s waiting for Wanda to look at her, Skye thought.

  Silence.

  Finally, Wanda looked at Mrs. Chambers.

  “It’s a series of meetings we have in our church every year that keeps us, the members of the church, informed about the work our missionaries are doing all around the world. Missionaries are really like pastors, but they serve mostly in other countries.”

  Wanda scrunched up her face and folded her arms. “How exciting,” she sneered. “I think I’ll pass.”

  “Sorry, Wanda,” Mr. Chambers said. “We’ll all be there, every night. You might be surprised at what you learn about how people live in other parts of the world. God’s been so good to us here in this country. So many folks in other places have
almost nothing.”

  “I ain’t never had it so good,” Wanda said. “When Pop got sent up and Mom died, I had to live with Gram. She’s always been sick. That’s how good that God of yours has been to me.”

  “Wanda,” Mrs. Chambers said, “God is just waiting to bless your life, but you’re fighting him.”

  “I don’t need no God that would let my mother die.”

  “At least you know where your parents are,” Skye said with kind intent. “I don’t have a clue where mine are.”

  Wanda gave Skye another strange look, almost as if she was genuinely interested in what Skye was saying.

  Maybe she’s starting to listen, Skye thought. Just maybe.

  “Wanda, we’d like to discuss something that affects the whole family,” Mrs. Chambers said.

  Wanda took her good old time looking at Mrs. Chambers. “What?” she snapped.

  “Mr. Chambers and I feel it’s not safe for you to be sleeping in the barn, especially with your smoking habit.”

  The expression on Wanda’s face turned to pure shock. Skye placed a safe bet that Wanda was thinking, How’d they know?

  Mr. Chambers added, “And, yes, we’ve known from the beginning that you’ve been sneaking to the barn or down to the game room to sleep, then sneaking back to your bedroom right before we all get up.”

  While Skye worked at her food, her glance darted around the table like she was watching a ping-pong game. Morgan did the same.

  “Wanda, dear, there’s no need for you to be sneaking around,” Mrs. Chambers said. “If you’re uncomfortable sleeping in your bedroom, we can accommodate you, at least for a little while.”

  “That’s right,” Mr. Chambers said, and then he sipped his drink. “We have a futon stored in my shop downstairs. We’ll move that into the game room if you’d like. There’s a place for it in the corner next to the computers.”

  “All we ask is that you keep that corner neat and you don’t try to sleep when we have the Youth for Truth kids here on game night,” Mrs. Chambers said.