by Chris Platt
“Maybe your brother can help?” their mom suggested.
Danny limped toward the house. “Maybe later, Mom. I’m really tired. The trip wore me out and this prosthetic is hurting me.”
“It’s okay.” Ali put the box of chicks on top of the hay bales. “I can probably come up with something.”
“I’ll help you put it together,” her father offered.
Some of Danny’s stubbornness must have rubbed off on her. “Thanks, Dad, but I can do this myself,” she said. “How hard can it be to build a pen for a couple of tiny chicks?”
But two hours later when she stood back and looked at her new chicken pen, she had to admit that she might be the new slumlord of Chickenville. The posts were crooked and the wire wasn’t secured to them very well. She had no idea how to build a coop, so she’d given up and used an empty cardboard box with a blanket inside.
Cara rode up. “What is it?” she asked, staring at the mess.
Ali sighed. “It’s a chicken pen for the new chicks I bought.”
“Can I see them?”
Ali opened the cardboard box and Cara scooped out one of the chicks, holding it close and rubbing her chin against its soft, fuzzy feathers.
“That one is Henrietta,” Ali said. “Danny hasn’t named his yet.”
“One of these is Danny’s?” Cara asked. “I thought he just hung out in his room all day playing video games. He doesn’t seem the baby-chick-type guy.”
“He’s not. But I’m trying to get him interested in something and I thought maybe he’d like a pet.”
“Chickens aren’t really pets.” Cara scratched the chick’s head. “I mean, they’re cute when they’re this size. But you can’t really do anything with them. They grow up into chickens and just kind of strut around the yard and lay eggs. Booooring!”
They set the chicks loose in their pen and watched as they pecked at the feed and stumbled into their water dish. Their little peeps were comforting.
It had been almost two years since Ali had had a pet. It felt kind of good to have one again. Of course, there were the horses. But they were just here temporarily. As soon as they got better, someone else would adopt them. Ali glanced at her cell phone. “It’s time to feed the horses.”
She cut open the top bale of hay and separated the flake of alfalfa into quarters. She shook a quarter flake into each bucket and handed one to her friend. Cara went straight for Misty’s pen, leaving her to feed the black gelding. Had her friend done that on purpose, forcing her to spend more time with Wind Dancer? Well, it won’t work, she thought. I’m not going to fall in love with these horses.
She let herself into the other pen and offered the hay to Wind Dancer. Once again he showed little interest. Ali noticed that Misty walked right up to Cara and stuck her head into the feed bucket. She wished Wind Dancer would do the same. Maybe she was doing something wrong.
She tried to remember what Jamie had shown her. She crushed some of the alfalfa leaves in her hand then rubbed them near his nostrils to give him the scent. Next, she put some of the soft pieces in his mouth, gently pushing them through the space at the side.
Wind Dancer rolled those around on his tongue for a bit. Ali gave him some more, being careful to leave out the stems for the moment. The gelding worked those back into his grinder teeth at the back of his jaw and Ali felt the thrill of victory when he started to chew. She gave him another mouthful and waited for him to chew it. It seemed like it took forever.
“Misty is done.” Cara presented the empty bucket. “Are you sure we can’t give her just a little more?”
Ali looked up in surprise. She had been concentrating so hard on Wind Dancer that she had forgotten about Misty and Cara. She shook her head vehemently. “Dr. Forrester said no. I don’t know where the dividing line is on too much food. I don’t want to take a chance on overfeeding them. It might make them sick.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Cara said. “Better to be safe.”
Ali held the bucket while Wind Dancer picked through the hay, chewing slowly. She remembered what he had looked like when he was healthy: broad-chested, with a compact body and large hindquarters. His legs were still strong and straight—like most Appys—but he didn’t show much desire to use them.
She had to smile when she looked at his wispy mane and tail. Misty’s was the same way. Most Appaloosas didn’t have long, thick manes and tails like other horses. Max’s had been pretty sparse too.
Her heart pinched a little when she thought of her pony. Try as she might to forget those fun times she missed so badly, she just couldn’t. But today, when she was standing here staring at a larger version of Max, it didn’t seem to hurt quite so much.
The gelding ate a little more food, but he still had about a quarter of his ration left. At least he seemed to be improving. Maybe in another four hours, when it was time for the next feeding, he would eat the entire portion. She clipped the feed pail to the railing in case he decided he wanted to finish it off. The vet hadn’t mentioned any time limit.
“Can we brush them?” Cara asked. “You seem to be getting along pretty well with Wind Dancer. I bet he’d enjoy it.”
Ali shook her head. “Not today.” She’d come too close to feeling something for Wind Dancer just a moment ago. She didn’t want to take the chance of brushing and fussing over the horses and possibly bonding with them. Their coats were clean enough for now.
Cara gave her a strange look, but Ali shrugged it off. “Jamie washed and brushed them before they brought them over.”
“Okay.” Cara didn’t sound convinced. “Then I’ll head home and do some homework.”
“Wow, I’m impressed!” Ali slapped her a high five. “I really am rubbing off on you.”
Cara picked up her bike. “Just don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to wreck my reputation as a wild child,” she said with a laugh.
“You’re smart.” Ali walked down the driveway with Cara. “You could get better grades if you’d just study. And you know I’ll help you anytime you need it.”
“Thanks.” Cara swung her leg over her bicycle. “Maybe you can help me study, and I’ll help you with the horses.”
“Deal!” Ali waved goodbye, then walked up her back steps and headed to her room. Grabbing her books, she took a seat at her desk by the window.
She tried to focus on her homework, but her eyes kept drifting to the horses below. What would become of them if she were able to save them? Who would their next owner be? What if it was someone who didn’t treat them very well?
Finally it was feed time. Ali jumped out of her chair and made her way to the corrals. Wind Dancer hadn’t finished his previous meal, but he had eaten a bit more of it. She gave Misty her ration, knowing that she wouldn’t have to coax the mare into eating.
Wind Dancer was another story. She tossed out the small bit he hadn’t finished, filled the bucket with fresh hay, and went through the routine again, placing the hay on his tongue and encouraging him to chew. “I think you just want the extra attention,” Ali said as she straightened his forelock.
Ali worked with the horse for around an hour. He ate about the same amount as he had earlier, which wasn’t much, but at least he was eating. She hung his bucket on the hook and did a quick check on the chicks, then went in to clean up for dinner.
When she came back downstairs, Ali was disappointed to see that Danny wasn’t at the table. It had been a crazy day with running off the road and all, but she felt like they had made some progress just hanging out during the ride before that.
When she remembered the spinning truck, her stomach did a rollover. One more secret she had to keep from her parents.
Ali took a seat at the table, praying the guilt didn’t show on her face. “Where’s Danny?” she asked.
“I think he’s sleeping,” her mother said. “He can eat when he gets up. I guess the trip to the feed store really wore him out.”
Ali groaned inwardly. Her mom had no idea … “So, Cara and I named
the horses,” she said.
“Oh?” her father said. “And what names did you pick?”
“Please don’t tell me Cara chose something like Strudel, or Cupcake!” Her mother laughed.
Ali smiled. “No, we picked good ones,” she assured them. “The gelding’s name is Wind Dancer, and the mare is Misty.”
“Perfect!” her mother said.
After dinner, Ali helped her mom clean up the dishes, then sat down to watch a movie with her dad. The horses’ next feeding wouldn’t be until 9:00. Her homework was done. She could kick back for a couple of hours and relax.
About halfway through the movie, Ali heard Danny bumping around in the kitchen. He didn’t come to join them, so she turned her attention back to the television. When it was over, she got up to go feed the horses and chicks.
“Do you need any help?” her mother asked.
“Thanks, Mom, but I’ve got it. I just need to go upstairs and change.”
The sun was going down, making it difficult to see the barn and corrals, but she peeked out her window while she pulled on her boots. What she saw brought her up short.
Danny was outside. He leaned on the corral by Wind Dancer’s pen, his crutches propped against the fence. The gelding pressed his nose against Danny’s shirtfront while her brother scratched him behind the ears.
She hurried downstairs and out the back door. “What are you doing?” Her voice sounded harsher than she meant for it to.
Danny’s head snapped around in surprise. “Nothing,” he mumbled, reaching for his crutches and quickly making his way back to the house.
Ali watched him go, feeling guilty for sounding so accusing. She stared at Wind Dancer. She was the one feeding and caring for him. Why didn’t he act like he wanted her around? It wasn’t fair.
She took a deep breath. She should be happy that her brother was interested in something besides video games. And she should be thrilled that Wind Dancer wanted attention—even if it wasn’t from her.
She picked up the feed buckets, divided the hay into them, and hung them for the horses to eat. She wasn’t sure Wind Dancer would eat his hay on his own, but he needed to start trying. She’d check on him after she fed the baby chicks.
Ali stomped around the corner of the barn, wondering why she felt so peeved. Why should she feel jealous of her brother? It didn’t matter who Wind Dancer liked best. She reached the chicken pen and froze.
The pen had been rebuilt. The poles stood straight and the wire was tight. An old doghouse that’d been abandoned behind the barn was serving as a chicken coop; it now housed nesting boxes.
Had her father done this? No, he couldn’t have. He’d been watching television with her.
Something lay on the ground next to a hammer. It was Danny’s hat. Military issue. The one he had returned home with from Afghanistan.
She felt the lump rise in her throat. Why was everything so upside-down lately? Why couldn’t she get things right? She plopped down in the sand beside the rebuilt chicken pen and cried.
Twelve
Ali sat there for a few minutes, feeling sorry for herself. The baby chicks finally brought her out of her pity party. There was barely any light left, but still she could see them hopping around, pecking at the ground, and tumbling over each other.
Danny had cared enough to do something nice for her. Was it his way of apologizing for the accident today? Or did he feel badly about the way he’d behaved since he came home from the war? Whatever it was, she needed to let him know she appreciated his efforts.
Ali changed the chicks’ water, added food to their dish, and then wrangled them into the coop for the night. She made her way back to the house to clean up.
After a good scrub down to remove horse hair and chick food, she went to the kitchen and pulled out flour, eggs, butter, sugar, and a bag of chocolate chips.
Ten minutes later her mom came into the kitchen. “What are you up to?” she asked, taking in the mess on the counter and the flour down the front of Ali’s shirt. “It’s almost your bedtime.”
“I’m making cookies for Danny.” Ali wiped the spilled flour off the counter and shook it into the sink. “He fixed my chicken pen while I was watching TV. It looks really good.”
Her mom dipped her finger in the cookie dough. “Yum,” she said. “Danny will love these. Looks like that ride to the feed store today did you two some good.”
“Yes,” Ali responded happily. But then she remembered the accident and Danny’s bewildered response. “Er … I hope he likes them.” Ali tried to steady her voice as she dropped the cookie dough by the spoonful onto the greased cookie sheet. “I’ve got to get these baked, then try to get a few hours’ sleep before the next feeding.”
“I’ll take over that one,” her mother offered. “This project is a little bigger than your father and I realized. You need your sleep. School is almost out and you want to finish strong. You’ll have all summer to stay up late.”
“No, I can do it, Mom.” Ali popped the cookies into the oven. “I guess I’m responsible for them being here, since I turned in Mrs. Marshall.” And the faster I help them get better, the sooner we can find them a new home.
“That’s very mature of you, dear.” Her mom sneaked another bit of cookie dough. “But it makes me feel old to see my thirteen-year-old daughter acting so grown-up. Are you sure you don’t want me or your father to handle it?”
“I’ll be fine, Mom, really,” Ali said. “I’ll catch some sleep as soon as these cookies are out of the oven, then set my alarm.”
It was after 10:00 when Ali finally got the cookies baked and the kitchen cleaned up. Though she could barely keep her eyes open, she pulled a plate down from the cupboard and put a half dozen cookies on it. Then she filled a glass with ice-cold milk and put everything on a tray.
Ali carried the tray upstairs, placed it in front of Danny’s door, and knocked. Surprised to hear him making his way to the door, she hightailed it to her room and closed the door without making a sound. Danny’s door creaked open. There was a long pause and she imagined him looking up and down the hallway, wondering who had left the cookies. His door closed with a soft click.
Ali put on pajamas and crawled into bed. Maybe she’d make a special plate of cookies for Jamie and his dad tomorrow. She set the alarm to wake her in a couple of hours, then closed her eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.
When her alarm went off a while later, Ali sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. “Ugh!” she muttered, scooting her legs over the side of the bed and fishing in the dark for her barn clothes. She felt like a rag doll as she stood and pulled on her jeans and T-shirt. Why hadn’t she let her mom take over this late-night feeding? She grabbed the flashlight off her dresser and went downstairs, the beam of light slicing a through the darkness. Stumbling outside, she made her way to the horse corrals.
Both horses were lying down, but Misty stood and shook the sand from her coat before making her way to the fence. She nickered and extended her nose, pushing her muzzle into Ali’s hair.
Ali closed her eyes and breathed in the heady scent of horse. Memories of Max floated through her mind. She reached out her hand and allowed herself, and Misty, one good pat and ear scratch. Better Misty than Wind Dancer.
She gave one bucket to each horse, barely looking at Wind Dancer. Much to Ali’s surprise, the gelding gingerly got to his feet and shuffled over to the bucket, pushing his nose down into the hay. He chewed loudly, grinding the hay in his molars and swallowing. He was eating fairly slowly—especially compared to Misty, who had already wolfed down her ration and was begging for more. But he was eating on his own, and that gave Ali a big sense of accomplishment.
She tiptoed back to her room, too tired to even get out of her horse clothes before she fell sound asleep.
Ali woke to the sound of chirping birds. Something was wrong. Sunlight flooded her room. She sat straight up in bed and reached for her alarm clock. It hadn’t gone off … because she had forgotten to reset it before
falling asleep last night.
She’d slept straight through the last feeding! Ali leaped out of bed and pulled on her jeans and boots. She finger-combed her hair as she ran down the staircase. What would Jamie and Dr. Forrester have to say? She was as bad as Mrs. Marshall!
Her mother sat at the kitchen table. “How’d the late night feedings go?” she asked.
“I’ll explain everything in a minute.” Ali ran out the back door. How could she have overslept? She should have set her cell phone alarm too.
Ali came to a screeching halt at the horse pen. Both horses stood in big piles of hay—at least two or three flakes from the looks of it.
“Stop! Don’t eat that!” She rushed into Wind Dancer’s pen and shooed him away from the hay. Though she was desperate to get the hay away from him, she was also surprised to see he was actually eating it. How much had he consumed already? He was only supposed to get a quarter of a flake and there was ten times that amount on the ground. How long had the horses been eating?
She gathered armloads of alfalfa and chucked it over the fence, then ran to Misty’s pen and repeated the procedure. There was much less hay there. Had the mare eaten more, or been fed less?
Who could have done this? Her parents knew better. Ali looked around their property. Could an early riser have seen the skinny horses and tried to do them a favor? If only she knew how much each horse had eaten!
She checked Misty over first. The mare had a big appetite; she had probably consumed more than Wind Dancer had. That would put her in bigger trouble.
She wasn’t really sure what symptoms she should look for. The vet had said it would take three to five days for refeeding syndrome to appear. She racked her brain, trying to remember anything else the vet had told her.
She looked at her watch. Dr. Forrester and Jamie were due here any minute. She hoped they weren’t late.
