by Chris Platt
King touched ground and surveyed his surroundings. His eyes were alert, and his ears swiveled back and forth, trying to pick up all the new sounds that surrounded him.
It was a pleasant day for the middle of February in Salem, Oregon. The wind was cool, but the sun shone, illuminating King’s brown coat and his fuzzy black mane and tail. He had just a touch of black showing on his legs now, but Katie knew that once he lost his baby hair, he would take on the true bay coloring of his father. He would be a beautiful bay with black points on his ears, muzzle, and legs.
King raised his head and whinnied, then struggled along after his mother, his gait slow and awkward. Katie felt as if she were watching an animal version of herself. Her heart ached with the kinship she felt with King. Come on, boy, she said to herself. It’s an uphill battle, but you can do it.
“Well, Mom, what do you think?” She could tell by the skeptical look on her mother’s face that she was full of doubt.
“I don’t quite know what to think, dear. The poor thing can hardly walk.”
“That’s only temporary. He’ll get stronger. You’ll see.” She patted her own bad leg and smiled at her mother.
They followed John and the horses into the barn. King was exhausted by the time he reached the stall. He plopped down on the soft bedding and took stock of his surroundings, then dozed off to the sound of his dam munching on hay.
“He’s a pretty little thing,” her mother volunteered. “But I just don’t see how those legs will ever straighten out.”
“Plenty of sunshine, exercise, and good food,” John said.
“What do I feed him, John?”
“Nothing at present. For now, he gets all he needs from his mama.”
“What about grazing? Shouldn’t I be putting him out to pasture?”
“The only reason to put this colt out to pasture now is for exercise. Did you see how long his legs are? There’s a reason for that. God didn’t intend for a colt to be eating grass as soon as he was born. That’s why their necks are so short and their legs are so long. They can’t get to the grass. In a month or so, he’ll start to nibbling on his mama’s hay. You let me know when that happens, and we’ll fix you a creep feeder.”
“What’s a creep feeder?” Mrs. Durham asked.
John swept off his hat and fidgeted, as if being around women made him nervous. “It’s a bucket with bars over it that are spaced far enough apart so the baby can stick its nose in and eat but the mother can’t. These old broodmares are a greedy bunch. They’ll eat up every drop of food they can get to—even their own baby’s.”
John turned to Katie. “Run out to the truck and get me that bag on the seat.”
Katie hurried to do his bidding. She felt fortunate to have such an experienced trainer to learn from. Mr. Ellis often said that old John had forgotten more than most trainers would ever know. He was the reason that Willow Run Farm was doing so well. She couldn’t have a better teacher. She was sure that together they would see King through to fame and fortune. She grabbed the bag from the truck and returned to the barn.
“Here it is.”
“That’s for you, Katie girl. Go on and open it.”
Katie peeked curiously into the sack. She smiled as she pulled a small halter and lead shank from the bag. “Thanks, John. When can I start using it?”
“The sooner the better. The way that colt’s been eating, he’ll be bigger than you pretty soon. You’d better give him some manners before then, or you’ll have problems. Now’s the time to handle him, while he’s still weak and having trouble with his legs. Once he’s got those figured out, he’s going to be a handful. You mark my words.”
“Do you really think there’s hope for this colt?” Mrs. Durham asked the trainer.
“If they’re alive, there’s always hope, missus. This here colt’s gotten off to a rough start in life, but I think he’ll be just fine.” John turned to Katie and winked. “Just be sure you take him for several walks a day for the next week or so. After that, his legs should be strong enough that he’ll start exercising himself.”
“But how can I walk him if he’s not halter-broke?” Katie asked, disheartened. The enormousness of the project she had taken on was finally sinking in.
“Snap a lead on Grey Dancer and walk her down the shed row. He’ll follow his dam. Just don’t overdo it these first few days. He’s weak, and we don’t need him getting sick.”
John unloaded the hay Mr. Ellis had sent for Grey Dancer, then left for Willow Run. Mrs. Durham returned to the house, and Katie was finally alone with her new colt. She hugged herself and laughed. She was staring at the future winner of the Portland Downs Futurity, the biggest-stakes race for two-year-olds in Oregon. And after that? Maybe she’d point him toward the Portland Derby, or even the Kentucky Derby. Who knew how far this colt could go?
King whinnied as he tried to stand and nurse, but his legs collapsed, and with them Katie’s dreams. She moved into the stall and gingerly wrapped her arms around the colt’s rib cage, helping him up as he tried to rise again. Shakily, he rose to his feet and made loud sucking noises, his pink tongue curling out of his mouth.
“Hold on, little guy, you’re not there yet.” She helped him fumble his way to his dam and smiled as he suckled greedily. “They say every race begins with the first step. We may be way behind, but we’re not out of the running yet. Eat all you can, because you’re going to need your strength. Tomorrow we begin your lessons.”
When Katie left the barn, she headed for the back pasture, intent on seeing just how badly the fences needed mending. She had ridden in that field for years but had never really paid much attention to the state of the fences. No animal had been turned out there since before she could remember. The man her parents had bought this place from had raised Black Angus cattle, but Katie’s family had never had more than a horse and a few chickens.
Someday, if everything went well, these fields would be full of Willow King’s offspring. Maybe then they’d be able to fix up the old barn and the small house they lived in.
Katie smiled to herself. This back field was so far from the house that it was easier to keep livestock in the front pastures. But the grass was deep back there. It would be good for King to grow on.
As she trudged through the fields, she felt a niggling pain in her hip. She wished that she still had Jester. He could cover this ground in a matter of minutes. Her heart ached at the thought. She hoped Cindy would treat Jester well. If she didn’t, maybe Katie could find a way to sneak him back and hide him in this pasture. She knew the plan was ridiculous, but it made her feel better all the same.
By the time she had reached her destination, her jeans were soaked to the knees. It hadn’t rained since yesterday morning, but the drops were still on the grasses and plants. And now they were all on her.
She looked around the field and frowned. There were fence boards down everywhere. But at least none were missing—just fallen off the posts. This looked to be a big job. She’d better get to it today, while the sun was still out. In Oregon, you never knew when the rain would start.
Katie made her way back to the house and changed out of her wet jeans. Then she gathered up her dad’s old tool belt, a hammer, and lots of nails, while her mother packed her lunch.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help, honey? That sounds like a mighty big job.”
“No, Mom. This is Saturday, your day off. You work too hard as it is. I’m just going to do a little bit each day. I should be done in a couple of days.”
“Have you ever nailed anything before, Katie?”
“Of course I have. I hung that picture of Grey Dancer in my bedroom. A fence post can’t be much different.” She didn’t like the way her mother smiled at her—as though she knew something that Katie didn’t. With a quick wave, she turned and headed back to the far pasture. This time, she rode her bicycle. It was easier on her joints.
Katie had her rain pants on now, so she arrived dry and comfortable. She stretched
and took a deep breath of the clear, cool air. Everywhere, as far as she could see, the land was green and dotted with pines. This was a good place to grow up—for her and for Willow King.
Katie walked to the first loose board and lifted it off the wet ground. Something fuzzy skittered across her fingers, and she screamed and jumped back, throwing the board to the grass. Her heart was in her throat as she crept forward to see what sort of creepy-crawler had dared to touch her skin.
Using the hammer as a lever, she lifted the board and examined it. There was nothing there now but a couple of pill bugs. She knew they were harmless, but she knocked them off before handling the board again.
When she finally lifted the plank to the post, Katie discovered she had another problem. How was she going to keep the end of the board up while she nailed the other end?
First, she tried propping it up on another board, but it only fell off when she started to hammer. Next, she tried to hold it up by herself while she nailed it, but the weight made it tip out of her grasp when she lifted the hammer to nail. Finally, she let one end lie on the ground while she pounded a single nail into the other.
The sound of laughter startled her, and she turned to see Jason sitting atop one of his black-and-white Paints. He was only about twenty feet from her.
“You look like the Three Stooges all rolled into one.”
Katie wiped the dampness from her brow and pulled a stray strand of hair away from her face. She was dirty and sweaty, and in no condition to see Jason Roberts.
And he was laughing at her.
Before she could think of what she was doing, Katie reached down and picked up a pinecone and threw it with all her might. It bounced off Jason’s head and startled his horse so that it tried to jump out from under him. While he was scrambling for mane and rein, the realization of what she had just done hit her.
She had beaned Jason Roberts, the cutest guy at Glendale Junior High, with a pinecone. How could she have done such a thing? If she had hurt him, she would never forgive herself. He would probably never forgive her.
Jason steadied his mount and reached up to rub his head. “There’s no blood, so I suppose I’ll live. But you’re wasting your time, Katie Durham. You should be on the baseball team, not out here trying to mend fences.”
For a moment Katie thought she would cry, but the smile on Jason’s face stopped her. As he rode closer to the fence, she saw the pine needles in his hair, and, despite a valiant effort at keeping a serious face, she burst out laughing, the sound of her mirth spooking his horse again.
“You’re a dangerous girl to be around.” Jason climbed from his horse and tied him to a tree. “I came here to help you and you bean me on the head and scare my horse. I didn’t know pretty girls could throw so hard.”
Pretty? Did Jason just say she was pretty? She could feel the color creeping hotly up her cheeks, so she turned away from him, picking up the hammer and nails.
“Here, let me have that.” He climbed over the fence and took the hammer and tool belt away from her. “I get stuck with this job at home all the time. I’m a real pro at it. Besides, things always go better with teamwork.”
He smiled at her again, and Katie felt the butterflies in her stomach take flight.
“Stand in the middle there and hold on to this board while I nail the end. That’s it,” he said encouragingly.
“Why are you doing this?” Katie couldn’t help but ask. None of the other boys at school would have bothered. She’d heard them snicker about limp-along Katie behind her back. It really hurt—especially since her limp wasn’t that noticeable anymore. Now she was just mostly clumsy. Her heart swelled with the hope that Jason was different.
“Any friend of Cindy’s is a friend of mine.”
Katie’s heart did a cannonball flop. Cindy. She should have known. What would a hunk like Jason want with Katie when he could have someone perfect like Cindy?
They spent the next hour repairing the fence line, then stopped for a well-earned rest. Katie shared her lunch of cold chicken and apple wedges.
“Your mom’s a great cook. How about inviting me over for dinner sometime?”
Katie almost choked on her chicken leg. “Are you always so forward, Jason Roberts?”
“Are you always so shy?”
She blushed, and that was all the answer he got. They finished the rest of their lunch in silence. Every bite Katie took felt like it was going to stick in her throat.
They went back to work, and to her surprise they were done with the entire project in another hour. Her spirits picked up, and she forgot about her earlier disappointment. “This is great!” Katie exclaimed. “I thought it would take me a week.”
“The way you were going, it would have taken you at least a month.”
“Watch it, mister. I’ve got a never-ending supply of pinecones at my disposal,” she teased as she hefted one in her hand.
Jason threw his arms up as if to protect himself. “Anything but that.”
“No, really, how can I ever thank you? You saved me a lot of work, not to mention the headache.”
“I told you—invite me to dinner. My mom’s away for two weeks, and my dad’s doing the cooking. I think I’ve lost five pounds since she left.”
“I’m not sure if my mother is up to entertaining. She works really hard, and she’s always tired when she gets home at night.” Katie hoped that would discourage him.
She wouldn’t be able to eat a bite with Jason sitting at her table.
“I’ll take a rain check for now,” he said. “I think we’re eating out tonight. I can survive that. You be good and keep working on that right arm. I’m going to have a talk with the baseball coach come Monday.”
Katie laughed. She’d be lousy at running bases with her bum leg, but it was nice of him to act as if it didn’t matter.
Before Kate could say anything, Jason mounted his horse and was gone, leaving her to think that maybe she had imagined the whole thing. She looked at the repaired fence, and a smile came to her lips. Jason hadn’t taken her out, bought her dinner or even a Coke, but she’d just worked like a teammate with the boy of her dreams.
Four
Katie woke often during the night to check the new foal. The first days and nights of his life were extremely important. If he didn’t get all the nourishment he needed, he would die.
She found King lying listlessly on the straw. The short trip from Willow Run Farm to his new home had exhausted him, and he had trouble standing on his own. Trying to get him up to nurse was a real chore. Katie had to stretch his legs in front of his body and prop him up so he was sitting like a dog, then run around and lift his hindquarters. More often than not, when his back half came off the ground, the front would collapse.
Jason was right: she felt as if she were in a Three Stooges movie.
Once King was up and nursing, Katie wrapped her arms around him to steady him. He leaned heavily on her, and at times she felt her arms were ready to drop off. But the colt got a full meal each time, and she could see he was gaining strength by the hour.
Katie was glad it wasn’t a school night, because she was losing energy as rapidly as King was gaining it. And her hip hurt something awful. She wondered if King’s legs hurt. Why couldn’t she have raised parakeets or puppies? It would have been so much easier. A horse was a big responsibility, but a problem horse was even more so.
She stroked King’s soft coat. Newborn foals felt like velvet. She ran her hand over the colt’s malformed legs, marveling at their delicate structure. Was it crazy for her to believe that someday these twisted limbs would straighten and become the solid bone and muscle of a running machine?
Maybe. And yet she did believe it.
Katie had enough faith to make up for all the doubters. She knew King would be a champion one day. But right now, seeing him so weak and helpless in the straw, that day seemed a long way off.
She touched his little legs again. “I hope these don’t pain you as much as my legs
pain me.” Katie sighed. “You’ve got to pull through this, King,” she pleaded as she ruffled his wispy mane. “If we lose you, we could lose it all—you, Jester, the farm. You’ve got to get stronger, boy. We’ve got some good times ahead of us and lots of winner’s circles to pose in.”
She moved to the corner of the stall where the straw was deep and clean and sat down to rest, tucking her hands into the pockets of her warm jacket. As her eyelids grew heavy, she snuggled further into her coat and the straw.
Katie woke when the farm’s rooster, Chicken George, crowed his wake-up call. The weak rays of the early morning sun filtered through the cracks in the old barn, giving everything a dream-world appearance.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes, wondering how far past King’s mealtime she had slept. When she looked about, she saw he was standing and nursing on his own. His legs were wobbling, but they managed to hold him upright. She wanted to jump up and shout for joy, but that would startle the colt. And, sore as she was from sleeping on the barn floor, she doubted she’d be able to jump anyway.
Katie waited until he was done, then slipped quietly out of the stall and back to her bedroom. As she tiptoed down the hall, her mother poked her head out of her room.
“How’s the colt?”
“He’s finally eating on his own.”
“Good. Now you can get some sleep. I’ll check on the colt and call you if anything goes wrong. Good night, dear.”
“Good night, Mom. Oh, and Mom?”
Mrs. Durham looked into her daughter’s tired but happy eyes. “Yes, honey?”
“You’re the greatest. Thanks for understanding.” She gave her mother a hug, then disappeared into her room.
It was mid-afternoon when Katie finally opened her eyes. She jumped out of bed and scrambled into her clothing, tripping and almost falling when her foot got caught in a pant leg.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” her mother called as she entered the kitchen.
“How’s the colt?” Katie tried to keep the rising panic out of her voice, but her mother knew her too well.
