Rescue

by Jessie Haas

“You’re brave.” Chess sounded glum, and Joni didn’t know what to say. She was brave. She was on Archie! Other than him, there wasn’t much to be brave about around here.

  “I’d be really chicken in a city,” she said.

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Chess said. “After a week, you’d be totally used to it.”

  “Well. How long have you been here?” Joni asked.

  Chess looked startled. After a second, she laughed, that adult-sounding chuckle. “Four days. No, five. Okay, I get it! And I’m not scared. I just don’t know my way around. And my mom keeps—hovering!”

  Joni made a sympathetic noise. Mom and Dad didn’t believe in hovering over kids—though if they’d heard some of the stories Kate and Olivia told about their free-range adventures, they might think differently. But there were two Big Girls. There was only one of Joni, and she was a lot more careful.

  The last cow disappeared into the barn. Joni and Chess turned toward home. “Okay,” Chess said. “Which of these plants is poison ivy?”

  “There isn’t poison ivy on this road,” Joni said. “There’s a patch along the edge of our field. I’ll show you what it looks like.”

  “And are there bears?”

  Joni laughed. “Yes.”

  “What’s funny?” Chess asked.

  “Slow down, Archie!” Joni said. Now she wanted to talk. “Out in the woods there’s black bears, and on the farm we have polar bears!”

  No reaction. She looked down at Chess, who had stopped paying attention. They were passing Mrs. Abernathy’s driveway, and she had her head turned, looking out across the fields. Still no minis—

  No, here they came out of the woods, Mrs. Abernathy seated like a gigantic statue on the cart. A slender log dragged on the ground behind it, the front end raised up a few inches. Good idea, Joni thought. That way, the log couldn’t stub into a rock or—

  Chess brought the bike to a swerving stop. “Poor babies! Dragging a cart and a log and that huge fat woman?”

  She cupped her hands to her mouth like a megaphone.

  “Hey! Why don’t you get off and walk!”

  FIVE

  Character

  Joni’s mouth fell open. She looked down at Chess, and then out across the field, where Mrs. Abernathy was turning her head. Looking at them.

  It wasn’t me! Joni clapped her heels to Archie’s sides. His ears swiveled. Was she telling him to run? She never let him run on the road, especially on the way home.

  Joni kicked him again. He took off at a rattling gallop that loosened her in the saddle and whipped tears into her eyes. She grabbed for his mane. Steady, better, but with her hands full of mane, she couldn’t pull on the reins and now Archie was running away with her.

  “Whoa!” Joni yelled. “Whoa!” He flicked one ear at her and poured on the speed, aiming himself down the road like a silver spear. He would swerve at the rocks, and jump over them, and she would fall off.

  Joni clamped her jaw. “You are going to stop!” She let go of his mane and seized the left rein in both hands. With all her might, she hauled his head toward Chess’s driveway. She felt herself slip in the saddle, but her grip on the rein kept her from falling. Archie thundered up the driveway, and the little boy came running straight toward them.

  Archie dug in his front feet and stopped abruptly. Joni slammed into his neck. She wrapped her arms around it, and managed to keep from diving off over his shoulder. As she straightened, she saw a spatter of blood in his white mane.

  Her blood.

  “Horse!” the boy said.

  Joni pressed the back of her hand against her lip, staring down at him. He was little and thin, like Chess, with pale skin and a wide smile. He reached his hands to Archie. Joni looked up to meet his mother’s wide eyes.

  She couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  Chess skidded the bicycle to a halt beside her. “Wow, he’s so fast!”

  Their mother picked up the little boy and opened her mouth. No words came out.

  “Yes,” Joni said. “He’s … he is fast.” She looked at the splotch of blood on her hand and touched her tongue to her lip. It felt sort of mashed, and tasted salty, but nothing was trickling down her chin.

  Archie stretched his nose toward the little boy. He loved small children. He scrubbed his silver, whiskery upper lip on the boy’s hair, producing squeals and giggles. But all Joni could think of were the long metal shanks of the hackamore. If Archie moved his head wrong …

  The mother stepped back, taking the boy out of reach. Joni opened her mouth.

  No. There really was nothing to say.

  She turned Archie back down the driveway. Her body felt shaky, but her hands were firm on the reins. Archie pranced, ready for more galloping.

  Chess coasted beside them. “Wow! How do you dare go that fast?”

  Did she not know that Archie had almost run over her little brother? “Why did you yell at—ow!” Joni dabbed her lip. It was still bleeding.

  “Because it’s abuse!” Chess said.

  “No, it isn’t!”

  “They shouldn’t be forced to drag a huge load like that!” Chess said. “Getting off is the least she could do!”

  “But it wasn’t huge!” Joni said. “Horses are strong. They can—”

  “Just because they can doesn’t mean they should!” Chess’s cheeks were bright, and her eyes shone. “Animals shouldn’t be slaves. They deserve better than that!”

  But this was so crazy! Here Joni was sitting on top of Archie, her slave. Why wasn’t Chess yelling at her? “She’s an old lady!”

  Chess lifted her chin. “My grandmother says an activist comforts the afflicted, and afflicts the comfortable.”

  “Well, I don’t!” Joni loosened the reins and let Archie have his head. He shot forward, clattered across the bridge, and leaped over the big rocks. It was an enormous jump, and Joni rode it pretty well considering that she’d never jumped anything that big before. She let him canter almost all the way down the trail. But the canter was turning into a gallop, and the next stage after that was runaway.

  “Walk, Archie—ow!” She licked her lip. Was that going to show? This was an afternoon she really didn’t want to talk about! She fought him to a walk, then a standstill, and let him eat some maple leaves while he caught his breath. He still jigged when they came out into the open, though. Joni managed to control him by zigzagging along the edge of the field, never letting him gain momentum.

  She spotted the patch of poison ivy, its leaves slick and oily-looking. She would point that out to Chess—

  No, she probably wouldn’t. They probably weren’t going to be friends. How could Joni hang out with somebody who would behave that way to an old person? Even thinking about it made her feel hot all over.

  In the farmyard, the border collies crouched, watching the door of the milking parlor. Any second now it would open and let out a batch of sheep, sheep that needed bossing. Any second! The dogs spared quick glances at Joni, flattening their ears. Hi. We’re busy.

  She led Archie into the cool stall, took off his saddle and bridle, and rubbed him down with his own private towel. He ducked his head into her hands, pushing hard. He loved having his face wiped.

  She got him two carrots from his bag, stashed in a cool crevice in the rock foundation. Archie nickered. It was one of Joni’s favorite sounds in the whole world. Now it reminded her of Chess’s laugh. Oh, groan! This was the kind of complicated feeling a ride was supposed to take away.

  She let Archie out. He rolled in the dirt, his four legs waving in the air. Then he stood up, shook in a cloud of dust, and wandered off, inspecting the grass to see if it had grown at all in the hour he’d been gone. His pasture was very small, and the grass was short—all for good reason, but Joni knew what Chess would say.

  She went to peek at herself in the milk house mirror. Her lower lip was fatter than normal, but not horrible. Maybe no one would notice.

  She found Mom and Dad at the back end of a row of sheep. The
sheep stood on the waist-high metal platform, and Dad was attaching a milking machine to the last one’s udder. Mom put an arm around Joni’s shoulders. “How was your day, sweetie?”

  Joni ducked her head into Mom’s side. Archie almost killed a little kid and Chess yelled at Mrs. Abernathy. Other than that … no. She couldn’t talk about it.

  Luckily, there was Olivia’s call to discuss. Dad was delighted that she was coming, and not just because she was Olivia. He didn’t have any farm interns lined up for this summer, and he needed the help. “She wants the barn apartment,” he told Mom. “And she’s bringing a friend!”

  “Girl or boy?” Mom asked.

  “It’s Rosita,” Dad said. “Remember her?

  “Okay,” Mom said. “Joni, have you done your kittens today?”

  “Not yet.” Obviously, Mom wanted to talk to Dad without her around. She climbed the stairs to the hayloft. The afternoon sun flooded through the wide door, lighting the vast space. High above, in the shadowy rafters, swallows swooped back and forth from their nests.

  The mother cat rushed to greet Joni, with a loud meow, ignoring the swallows that dive-bombed her. She stared straight into Joni’s eyes, urgent and commanding. Then she turned and headed toward the back of the haymow, looking over her shoulder to be sure Joni was following.

  “Did you move them again? Where—oh, I see.”

  In a cave between the bales, the four young kittens bumbled over one another. Their mother crawled in and curled her body around them, beaming proudly. It was Joni’s job to play with them so they wouldn’t grow up wild. Yesterday, she’d only peeked at them because she’d been in a hurry to tell Danae and Alyssa about Chess …

  She picked up each kitten in turn, kissing them, stroking their tiny heads. They looked at her with milky blue, bewildered eyes, and opened their pink mouths in squeaking cries.

  “It’s okay,” Joni crooned. “Good babies. You’re going to love people.” Soon they would start to purr, and then to play. Then they’d be easy to give away—

  “Oh! Maybe Chess—”

  No. Chess wouldn’t want a captive animal.

  “How could anybody not want you?” Joni cradled the last kitten against her cheek. He was as soft as a pussy willow, and shaking with—

  No, he wasn’t shaking! He was purring! Joni stroked her cheek against him. “You’re so brave!” she whispered. She was a giant to him, a giant of another species. But he put forth this amazing, happy sound and hooked her. She would do anything for him.

  She kissed him, and looked down into his mother’s large green eyes. She seemed satisfied, as if she had planned this all along—and maybe she had. Even before the kittens were born, she’d taken Joni and Dad and anyone else who would follow to see her secret nest. She wanted them to know and love her kittens, and why? It was the best thing for the kittens, but how could a cat know that?

  Joni kissed the kitten, nestled him back beside his mother, and filled up the food dish. Then she ran down to the milking parlor—interrupting what they were saying, but this was important.

  “One’s purring! The gray one with the white bib!”

  “That’s great, Joni!” Dad said. He’d let a new batch of sheep in, and he was wiping down their freckled udders while they gobbled.

  “What did you do to your lip?” Mom asked.

  “Oh, Archie stopped fast.”

  “And you didn’t!” Mom said. “If ponies build character, I’d say you’ve got character out to here, kiddo!”

  Joni’s spirits took a little dip. Compared with Chess, she didn’t have character at all. Okay, she was brave enough to ride a horse like Archie, but she could never yell at an old lady, especially one like Mrs. Abernathy. She didn’t want to, but she would like to know that she dared to. Or maybe not yell, but at least speak up. That had never been a problem for Kate and Olivia, as far as she could see, and Danae and Alyssa were great speaker-uppers, but Joni didn’t fight with people. “My happy camper,” Dad sometimes called her.

  A happy camper and an activist did not seem like a great match.

  “I’ll go check on supper,” Mom said. Joni remembered the smell of lamb stew from the slow cooker. Oh! And she remembered Mrs. Abernathy’s message from yesterday.

  “Dad, that lady on North Valley Road, the one with the miniature horses? She said to tell you she wants two lambs.”

  “How is she?” Mom asked. “When did you see her?”

  “Um—yesterday. I forgot to tell you last night.”

  “And how was she?” Mom repeated.

  Joni shrugged. How was she supposed to know how Mrs. Abernathy was, when she didn’t even know the lady? But Mom was a writer and a high school writing teacher. She was always trying to get people—mostly Dad and Joni—to pay attention to details. Joni groped for some details she could tell.

  “She was out in her garden. Hilling potatoes, I think. She had her horses and cart.”

  “Was she alone?” Dad asked.

  “No, she had her horses!”

  Dad laughed. “I meant people. Whenever I go by, there’s some man in her yard, cutting wood or fixing something. All the old bachelors and widowers around here are in love with her!”

  “Her husband died last fall,” Mom explained. “He was sick for a long time, and she nursed him. That’s why nobody knows her very well. They moved in a couple of years ago when he was already sick.”

  “She was bringing in a log today, with her minis.” Joni felt her face burn. She so didn’t want to think about that scene!

  “She used to drive horses in competitions,” Mom said. “She had to sell them when her husband got sick. I’m glad she’s got those ponies. It’s about time life got easier for her.”

  SIX

  “It’s O-o-o-o-o-ver!”

  On Wednesday, Joni asked Mom to drop her off at school. It was the last day. And she had half a wheel of cheese to take in for the class picnic lunch. Those seemed like good reasons not to ride the bus, but the school year was ending for Mom, too, and she had about a hundred and fifty extra things to do. Dad, of course, was cleaning up after milking.

  So Joni got on the bus with her picnic basket and made the long walk down the aisle to seat eleven. Would Chess be mad? Because Joni had ridden away from her. That was like hanging up in the middle of a phone conversation. She would be mad! And did that even matter? She’d already decided they weren’t going to be friends.

  But Chess didn’t look mad. “Good!” she said. “You got home okay.”

  “Why not?”

  “He kept running away with you. I was worried. I started to bike after you, but I couldn’t keep up.”

  Unbelievable! Chess didn’t know a thing! She hadn’t even noticed Joni kicking Archie in the ribs. Joni could say whatever she wanted, about him, or the farm, or animals, and Chess would believe her.

  It also meant that Chess didn’t think anything was wrong between them. It was up to Joni to let her know. Or not.

  “Yeah, I got him under control,” she said.

  “So,” Chess said. “What are we going to do about those ponies?”

  “Nothing,” Joni said. “It doesn’t hurt them to—”

  “But that was a huge load they were pulling!”

  “They’re strong!” Joni said, loudly enough that the bus driver looked at her in his mirror. “Ponies are like jeeps—”

  “No, they’re not,” Chess said. “A jeep is a machine. Ponies have feelings, they’re sensitive—”

  “Have you ever met a pony?” Joni’s heart was pounding. The bus driver looked at her again, and no wonder. This was practically an argument, and Joni had always been the quietest kid on the bus. But it felt surprisingly good when those words blasted out without her even thinking about them. She could argue! Maybe she could even win.

  Chess didn’t answer, because the bus stopped again and Danae and Alyssa came down the aisle—“The last time ever!” Alyssa wailed—and suddenly it was all about the three of them.

  It
was like that in school, too—a day for old friends, not new. A few people got teary-eyed. “It’s over,” Alyssa kept saying. “We’ll never be sixth graders again.”

  It was true. For this whole year, they’d been the oldest kids in school, the coolest, and the smartest. Next year, they’d be the youngest in a big district high school. They’d have to start at the bottom again.

  So it was a day to remember past triumphs. They explained the old jokes to Chess, and told the old stories—the time Skyler swung so high he went all the way over the top bar of the swing set, the time a teacher fainted in front of the class, the annual class field trip to Joni’s farm to see the new lambs …

  “Remember the year Ray touched the electric fence three times?”

  “Remember when Celia stepped in sheep manure?”

  “Remember the kindergarten visit? We thought the Polar Bears really were bears!”

  Chess looked at Joni. “What are they, then?” Everybody jumped in to explain. Danae, who could be very loud for a very long time if necessary, talked over all of them. She made it clear that the Bears were big, white, fluffy dogs who lived out in the pasture with the sheep—at least, they were supposed to. They guarded against coyotes and whatever else out there might like a lamb dinner. They were strong fighters, but mostly what they did was bark.

  “But they like people better than sheep,” Danae said. “So they’re around the house a lot, and sometimes sheep get munched.”

  Not an accurate word for it. Joni hated the sight of wool pulled across the grass. She tried never to go closer so she wouldn’t see the blood and all the rest of it. She didn’t want to think about that now.

  “We have kittens,” she said.

  She was getting good at changing the subject. Everyone clamored, “Oh, can I have one?” “Can I?”

  “They’re too young right now,” Joni said, and several people asked if they could come over and see the kittens. Not Chess, though.

  But there were other things to talk about besides Joni’s farm, and a few actual school-related things to do, and then the potluck picnic. Joni wasn’t allowed to cut the big cheese. She was good with a knife. Mom and Dad had taught her carefully. But Mrs. Emmons said, “If they want to let you, that’s their business. I’m not having our last day spoiled by you cutting a finger off. Some people are vegetarians, you know!”