Home at Last

by Judy Katschke

  “So,” Dad said cheerily, “what kind of apples do you grow here?”

  “The pony is eating from an old-fashioned Winesap tree,” Farrah explained blankly. “They ripen later than most apples, which is why they’re still on the trees.”

  “Winesap are my favorites,” Ben piped in.

  “They bake well in a pie too,” Dad said.

  Farrah nodded. “They’re very hearty,” she said, “and can survive the first cold snap.”

  “But not a hungry horse,” Jerry muttered.

  “Jerry, please,” Farrah scolded.

  Dad seemed relieved when Mom walked over with a big smile.

  “Good news,” Mom said. “When I told my mother about the pony, she said she’d be here lickety-split.”

  “ ‘Lickety-split’ is Grandma Edna talk for ‘real quick,’ ” Willa said. “Right, Ben?”

  But when Willa looked out from behind Starbuck, Ben was no longer beside her. Instead, he was walking straight toward the pony.

  “Ben, what are you doing?” Willa called. She turned frantically to her parents and said, “Get him back before the pony kicks—”

  “Wait.” Dad told Willa. “The pony isn’t turning his back to Ben.”

  “What?” Willa said. She whirled around to see Ben standing alongside the pony stroking his neck. The pony shook his shaggy mane, then turned to nudge Ben’s shoulder.

  “Will you look at that,” Farrah said. “I wonder why he has no problem with the boy.”

  “Maybe because he’s shorter,” Mom speculated. “And doesn’t show any fear.”

  “I didn’t show any fear,” Willa said as she watched Ben stroke the pony’s neck. “And I’m not much taller than Ben either.”

  “At least the pony stopped eating the apples,” Dad pointed out. “That’s the most important thing.”

  Apples. Willa smiled as she remembered the apple Ben had eaten at the house.

  “Maybe,” Willa said, “the pony is relaxed because he smells apple on Ben’s breath.”

  “Or maybe,” someone with a familiar voice said, “it’s because the pony likes him.”

  Chapter 3

  EVERYONE TURNED TO SEE GRANDMA Edna walking over from her pickup truck.

  “That was quick,” Mom told her own mother.

  “Why so surprised?” Grandma Edna asked. “When I say lickety-split, I mean lickety-split.”

  Grandma Edna smiled at Ben, who was petting the pony’s shaggy mane. “Well, now,” she said, “isn’t Ben the junior horse whisperer.”

  “I guess,” Willa said softly.

  It was hard for her not to be a little jealous of her brother. She was supposed to be the horse expert, not him.

  But Dad is right, Willa thought as she watched the pony nuzzle Ben’s shoulders. At least he stopped eating the apples.

  “The pony’s coloring . . . and the four white socks,” Grandma Edna said. She narrowed her eyes as she studied the pony. “I feel like I’ve seen that horse before, but I can’t pinpoint where or when.”

  Grandma Edna shook the thought out of her head and said, “Willa? Did you bring a halter and a lead rope?”

  “Got them,” Willa said, happy to be useful. She reached into Starbuck’s saddlebag and pulled out the nylon halter and lead rope.

  “Thanks,” Grandma Edna said, taking both accessories. “Now let’s get Johnny Appleseed away from that tree.”

  Willa smiled at Grandma’s made-up name for the horse. But what was his real name?

  Ben stepped to the side as Grandma Edna approached with the halter. The pony became a bit skittish as Grandma Edna slipped the halter over his head. After attaching the lead rope, Grandma Edna gave it a tug. The pony grunted, not moving an inch.

  “Here we go again,” Farrah groaned.

  “Let me try, Grandma Edna,” Willa said. She turned to her mother. “Mom, hold Starbuck while I—”

  “Look,” Jerry said. “The boy is leading the horse.”

  “What?” Willa gasped. She turned toward Ben and her eyes widened. Her brother truly was leading the stubborn little pony away from the apple tree.

  “You really have a way with horses,” Farrah told Ben as he led the pony toward them. “I’ll bet you want to be a veterinarian just like your grandma when you grow up.”

  “How did you guess?” Ben said with a big smile.

  Willa frowned. Since when did Ben want to be a veterinarian? She wanted to be a veterinarian. Ben still wanted to be a ninja warrior— or a waterslide tester.

  “Now, how are we going to get Johnny Appleseed to Misty Inn?” Mom asked.

  “I suppose the only way is to have Ben lead him,” Grandma Edna replied.

  “Yes,” Ben said under his breath. He turned to ruffle the front of the pony’s mane. “Hear that, Winesap? We’re a team.”

  “ ‘Winesap’?” Dad repeated.

  “After the apples he was eating,” Ben explained. “And my favorite apples too.”

  “But Grandma Edna called him Johnny Appleseed,” Willa told Ben. “Isn’t that a cute name for a pony?”

  “Cute?” Ben scoffed. He looked the pony straight in the eye and said, “Nod once for Winesap, twice for Johnny Appleseed.”

  Everyone laughed as the pony bobbed his head once.

  “Okay—I saw you tug his halter,” Willa complained.

  “Did not,” Ben said.

  “Did too,” Willa said back.

  “Kids, kids,” Grandma Edna said. “I think Farrah would like some closure to this afternoon. So what do you say you get Winesap to Misty Inn?”

  “Good idea,” Mom said. “I’m just not sure I want Ben walking along the road with a strange pony.”

  Ben opened his mouth to protest when Willa said, “Ben can follow me and Starbuck, Mom. Johnny Apple—I mean, Winesap—seems to be comfortable with us.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Mom said. “You have the phone, right?”

  “Yup,” Willa said, patting her jacket pocket.

  “Mom? Dad?” Ben asked, holding Winesap’s lead rope. “What’s going to happen to Winesap when we go on vacation?”

  Grandma Edna appeared surprised. “Vacation?” she asked. “What’s this about a vacation?”

  “We were thinking of going away for a few days,” Dad answered, “while the kids are off for Thanks giving.”

  “Well, phooey kablooey,” Grandma Edna said. “I was going to ask you guys to feed and check in on the animals while Reed and I are in Hawaii.”

  “But I thought you were hiring a young vet tech for the animals at Miller Farm,” Mom said. “His name is Jason?”

  “It’s Jaden, and he just got engaged.” Grandma Edna sighed. “He’s going down to North Carolina for Thanksgiving to meet the parents.”

  “That’s so sweet,” Mom said with a smile.

  “Sweet for him, not for me and Reed,” Grandma Edna muttered. “Who am I going to get to care for the animals on the farm now?”

  “Maybe we don’t have to go away,” Ben blurted.

  Willa stared at Ben as if he had three heads. “What about the Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York?” she asked.

  “We can watch it on TV,” Ben said with a flap of his free hand. “Who wants to stand out in the cold for three hours and have to use a porta potty?”

  Ben turned to give the pony a pat. “Besides . . . I’d rather spend Thanksgiving with this guy.”

  Winesap tossed his head and whinnied.

  “Actually,” Mom said, “I was having second thoughts about traveling over Thanksgiving. Buying tickets so close to the holiday will be very expensive.”

  “And you know I have trepidation,” Dad agreed. “What if we get last-minute reservations?”

  Mom put her hand on Grandma Edna’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Ma,” she said. “We’ll take good care of your animals while you and Dad are in Hawaii.”

  “And I will take good care of Winesap,” Ben said, giving the little pony a hug. “Right, boy?”

  As
Winesap snorted, Willa took a deep breath. “Can we go home now . . . please?”

  Grandma Edna gave Winesap a quick checkup. “He may get diarrhea from all those apples,” she said. “Call me if it lasts more than eight hours.”

  “Diarrhea? Seriously?” Ben asked.

  “Do you still want to take care of him?” Willa teased.

  On the way to her pickup truck, Grandma Edna looked over her shoulder and said, “I’m going to make some calls back at the farm. To see what I can find out about that pony.”

  After saying good-bye to Farrah and Jerry, the Dunlaps and the horses were on their way. Mom and Dad drove slowly up the road. Willa and Ben walked along the sandy curb together with Starbuck and Winesap.

  “I don’t get it, Ben,” Willa called back. “When I wanted to stay home with Starbuck, you acted like I was from another planet.”

  “That was before I got Winesap,” Ben answered.

  “Got Winesap”? Willa furrowed her brow as she and Starbuck led the way. Does Ben think Winesap is his pony?

  Willa was about to explain to Ben that Winesap probably had another owner. But when she looked back and saw the big grin on her brother’s face, she changed her mind.

  “I don’t want to leave Starbuck over Thanksgiving either,” Willa said. “And taking care of the animals on Miller Farm will be fun.” Ben didn’t answer. He was too busy whispering sweet nothings into Winesap’s ear. Willa decided to do the same thing—with Starbuck.

  “Winesap does seem like a good horse,” Willa told her pony softly, “but I still like the name Johnny Appleseed better.”

  By the time the Dunlaps returned to Misty Inn, the November sky was a deep, dusky purple. Dad went from the car straight to the kitchen. Mom greeted Willa and Ben as they walked the ponies up the driveway.

  “We should take the ponies to the barn,” Willa suggested. “I want to show Winesap his new stall.”

  “Not the stall yet for Winesap, Willa,” Mom said. “We don’t know if he’ll take to a strange barn.”

  “But I told Starbuck she’d have a new roomie,” Willa said. “And the weather’s getting colder.”

  “And I don’t want Winesap to catch a cold,” Ben said. He wrinkled his nose and added, “On top of his diarrhea.”

  “His stomach is fine for now, Ben,” Mom said. “And nature gave him a nice thick coat to protect him from the cold.”

  Mom pointed to the distance and said, “Let’s put Winesap in the paddock. That’s what Grandma Edna does at Miller Farm with unidentified horses.”

  “But he is identified, Mom,” Ben insisted. “He’s Winesap.”

  Mom walked alongside Winesap as Ben led him to the field. Willa walked Starbuck to the barn. She could tell her pony was tired from such a busy day. So was Willa.

  After feeding and watering Starbuck, Willa groomed her pony’s coat until it shone.

  “Everyone knows you swam here from Assateague Island, girl,” Willa said as she closed the stall door. “But where did Winesap come from?”

  Starbuck blinked a soft brown eye.

  “I don’t know either.” Willa sighed. “But until we find out, looks like you’ve got the place all to yourself.”

  Willa left a tuckered-out Starbuck and the barn. As she passed the field, she glanced at Winesap. His shaggy brown tail was swinging calmly as he watched her walk by.

  Looks happy to me, Willa thought.

  Willa expected to see Ben at the fence. Instead, she found him in the kitchen. His eyes were wide as he listened to Mom speaking on her phone.

  “Really?” Mom was saying. “That’s too bad.”

  “What’s going on?” Willa asked Dad.

  “It’s Grandma Edna,” Dad said as he warmed up a seafood casserole for the inn’s two guests. “She made some inquiry calls about the pony. I’m guessing she had no luck.”

  Mom shook her head as she ended the call. “No pony with Winesap’s description is missing from the Virginia Assateague herd,” she said.

  “Oh!” Ben exclaimed. “Too bad.”

  Willa could see Ben frowning—but his eyes were dancing with delight.

  “Grandma Edna is waiting to hear from the Pony Rescue,” Mom went on. “She says we shouldn’t get our hopes up too high.”

  “Okay,” Dad said, slipping on an oven mitt. “So what do we do next?”

  “We give Winesap some space,” Mom said firmly, “until we know his history.”

  Willa understood what that meant: They shouldn’t interact with Winesap.

  From the grin on Ben’s face, Willa had a feeling he understood too—in a whole different way.

  Chapter 4

  “COVER YOUR MOUTH WHEN YOU yawn, Ben,” Willa said. “I don’t want to see Crunchy Munchy cereal crumbs all over your tongue—it’s gross.” Ben snapped his mouth shut. It was Monday morning as he and Willa waited for the school bus. “I had a granola bar for breakfast, smartie,”

  Ben insisted. “And I’m tired because I woke up super early to check in on Winesap.”

  Willa knew that was true. On her way to the barn that morning, she had seen Ben in the pasture feeding and watering Winesap. At one point the little chestnut pony nudged Ben’s arm with his shaggy head.

  Seeing Ben with Winesap made Willa happy and a bit sad at the same time: happy that Ben was bonding with a pony, sad at the thought of her little brother becoming a horse expert too. Would Ben soon know more about horses than she did?

  Ben’s voice interrupted Willa’s thoughts. “It’s awesome to get my own pony,” he said, “and it’s not even my birthday.”

  “You know, Ben,” Willa said, pretending to look down the road for the school bus. “While you were still out with Winesap, I was talking to Mom.”

  “So?” Ben asked, gazing back at the field and Winesap.

  “So Grandma Edna spoke to someone from the Maryland herd over the weekend,” Willa explained. “She’s still waiting to hear if anyone there recognizes the picture of Winesap she e-mailed them.”

  Ben shrugged. “Grandma Edna already spoke to the Virginia herd,” he said. “And they didn’t recognize him.”

  “Right, but there are two herds of wild ponies on Assateague Island,” Willa explained. “They’re separated by a fence at the Virginia and Maryland line.”

  Ben started rolling his eyes as Willa said, “The Virginia herd is owned by the Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Company, and the Maryland herd is owned by the National Park Service.”

  “Duh—as if I don’t already know,” Ben said. “What are you all of a sudden? Willa-pedia?”

  “Very funny.” Willa sighed.

  “Besides,” Ben said with a smile, “from the looks of him, Winesap probably is a wild pony with no owners.”

  “Nuh-uh,” Willa said. “Winesap is a gelding.”

  “So?” Ben asked.

  Willa smiled. She was the horse expert after all.

  “A gelding is a horse who has had surgery,” Willa explained. “Wild ponies usually don’t have surgery.”

  “What kind of surgery?” Ben asked.

  “Um,” Willa said, “maybe Grandma Edna better explain that.”

  To change the subject, Willa reached into the side pocket of her backpack. She pulled out a tight roll of papers and said, “Look what I made up last night to help Winesap.”

  “Help him how?” Ben asked.

  Willa waved a proud hand over the flyer she’d designed and printed. Above Winesap’s picture were the words, “Do You Know Me?” Underneath was a description of Winesap along with Misty Inn’s phone number and e-mail address.

  “I don’t see Winesap’s name on it,” Ben said.

  “That’s the name you gave him,” Willa told him. “For all we know his real name is Charlie or Champ or Chestnut.”

  “Whatever.” Ben sighed. “It’s not like Winesap is going to stick anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” Willa asked, stuffing the papers into the backpack.

  “You’re the one who keeps saying I�
�m not going to keep him,” Ben mumbled.

  Willa was glad when the school bus rolled down the road. Convincing Ben that Winesap had another home was like convincing a crab to buy sand.

  Ben trailed Willa onto the bus. Halfway up the aisle they separated to sit with their best friends, Sarah and Chipper Starling.

  “Guess what?” Willa asked, slipping into the seat next to Sarah. “We’re going to be in town this Thanksgiving with no guests at Misty Inn. Zero, zip, zilch.”

  “So?” Sarah asked.

  “So maybe I can finally have a sleepover at Misty Inn,” Willa said excitedly. “With all the empty rooms, I can invite every girl from our class—”

  “Sounds awesome, Willa,” Sarah interrupted. “But I won’t be able to go.”

  “Why not?” Willa asked. “Don’t tell me you’re going to Hawaii too?”

  “I wish.” Sarah chuckled. “It’s my cousin Paisley. She’s visiting from California this Thanksgiving, and she’s our age.”

  “Paisley can come to my sleepover too,” Willa said excitedly. “Then she can hang out with us the rest of the weekend.”

  “Can’t.” Sarah shook her head. “We haven’t seen Paisley since we were eight years old, so my parents want us to do stuff as a family. The whole weekend.”

  Willa’s heart sank at the news. “Oh,” she said. Sarah flashed a smile, eager to change the subject. “What’s happening with that wild pony you e-mailed me about last night?” she asked. “His name is Fuji, right?”

  “Wrong apple. It’s Winesap,” Willa said, smiling. “And I made up these flyers to help find his owners.”

  Willa lifted her backpack from the bus floor. But when she looked inside the side pocket . . .

  “That’s weird,” Willa said, sticking her hand deep inside. “I rolled them up and slipped them in here. Now they’re gone.”

  “Maybe they fell out before you got on the bus,” Sarah said. Her eyes suddenly lit up. “Hey, if the wind blows them all over town, you won’t have to hand them out.”

  Unless the flyers didn’t fall out, Willa told herself. Unless someone doesn’t want to find Winesap’s real owners.

  Turning in her seat, Willa caught Ben staring guiltily straight at her. And I think I know who that someone is.