Blue Ribbon Champ
Authors: Marsha Hubler
Book 6
Formerly Titled Skye’s Final Test
Marsha Hubler
To Patti Souder
and the Montrose Christian Writers Conference staff
who brought my ideas for this series and
Zonderkidz together on the same page.
A Letter to my Keystone Stables Fans
Are You Ready to Own Your First Horse?
Resources for Horse Information Contained in this Book
I
should’ve gone to Aunt Dot’s in Charleston for the summer!” Skye made her point perfectly clear as she shampooed her horse in the Keystone Stables paddock. “I’m really not looking forward to a summer with Joey Klingerman again.”
“Well, why didn’t you go to Charleston?” Morgan shot back. “I’m sure Champ would’ve had a simply marvelous time here without you.” From her wheelchair, Skye’s foster sister busied herself polishing a saddle on a sawhorse just outside the barn door.
Skye threw her arms around Champ’s drenched neck and clung to him like a wet rag. “But I can’t get along without him, Morgan. Not for a whole summer. I’d just die!”
The sorrel Quarter Horse nickered and nodded as though in agreement with Skye’s dramatic words.
Skye kissed Champ on the nose and then sighed as she wiped his neck with a dry cloth. “I know Joey can’t help it that he has Down syndrome, but he just won’t leave me alone. Mom’s been helping me to try and understand, and I found a neat website that explains all about kids like him, but—”
“And, Skye,” Morgan teased, flipping back her long red locks, “what about Chad? You’d die without him too, wouldn’t you?”
Skye’s face flushed red-hot and she giggled. “Cut it out. You know I’m going nowhere but here for the whole summer. Mom and Dad need both of us, I guess. And Chad? Well…I…”
“Did I hear my name?” A teenager in a dark brown Stetson, plaid shirt, and jeans led a buckskin horse out of the barn. “What can I do for you ladies?” Brown eyes flashed in Skye’s direction.
Although Skye was soaked and fairly cool from Champ’s bath, her cheeks flushed hotter than ever. She threw a quick glance at Chad and returned to her hosing job. “Oh—ah—nothing,” she stammered. “We’re just discussing the summer.”
“Yeah,” Morgan added, “and all the work that’s ahead of us.”
“But working with the horses is fun—most of the time.” Skye positioned herself so she could eye Chad.
Chad led the buckskin into the paddock, tied him to a fence post, and started to brush his shiny tan coat. “Yeah, even though Mr. C. pays me for helping, it
is
a lot of fun. The money goes into my college fund, and I get to play with horses and kids all summer. Now in my book that’s one super job. Are all the summer students here?”
Skye peeked over her horse’s withers, watching Chad’s every move. “Yeah. All four of them are here, bag and baggage. Sorry to say, Mom and Dad picked up Joey at the bus station right after church.”
Leaning over the horse’s back, Chad poked back his Stetson, revealing a clump of blond curls. “Joey Klingerman’s coming again? Why are you sorry?”
“’Cause I have a slight problem with him, that’s all,” she said weakly.
“A problem?” Chad asked.
Ignoring Chad’s question, Skye busied herself with water and bubbles.
Me and my big mouth.
“Joey bugs her to death!” Morgan put in her two cents’ worth.
Another big mouth!
Skye fumed. Shielding herself behind Champ, she shot a piercing glare at Morgan and shook her head.
A fake Cheshire grin masked Morgan’s freckles.
Sorry!
Her lips formed the word as she resumed soaping the saddle.
“Joey bugs you?” Chad boomed right behind Skye.
“Yikes!” Skye squeaked as she jumped to attention like a soldier called to arms.
Chad and Morgan burst out laughing.
Skye faced Chad in mock anger. “Very funny, Chad Dressler.”
Chad’s twin dimples highlighted his devilish smile. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you—much.”
“Yeah, right!” Skye said.
But you can scare me anytime!
Chad picked up a cloth and started drying Champ’s head. “Seriously, what’s wrong with Joey? He was here last year, and I didn’t notice any problem with him. He listened and followed all the rules, as far as I can remember.”
That wasn’t the problem!
Skye didn’t need to remind herself.
Morgan leaned forward on the padded saddle seat. “Well, problem or not, he’s up at the house with the others right now getting the whole nine yards from Mr. and Mrs. C. ‘Do this! Don’t do that!’ The kids probably feel like they’re in some kind of prison!”
“It mustn’t seem like prison to Joey, or he wouldn’t have come back,” Chad said.
Skye turned the hose nozzle off and started to dry the back part of Champ. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Chad’s every move.
Time to change the subject
—
and fast,
she told herself. “Well, I sure remember how I felt when I first came here as a know-it-all foster kid. I thought a straitjacket would have been better. But it didn’t take me long to get used to all the rules.”
“Me neither,” Morgan said, relaxing into her chair. “The cool stuff about bein’ a foster kid here far outweighs the negatories.”
“Negatories?” Skye giggled as she slid her fingers through her long brown hair. “Is that a word?”
“Not sure.” Morgan giggled too. “But it sounded good.”
“I think it’s ‘negatives’!” Chad finished wiping off the front of Champ. He pulled a hoof pick out of his back pocket, headed to the buckskin, and lifted one of its front legs.
He is so-o-o smart!
Skye concluded.
“Easy, Bucky,” Chad said, carefully examining the triangular pad on the bottom of the horse’s hoof. “We’ve gotta clean your frogs out—and good. Skye,” he said in his next breath, “speaking of problems, how’d Bucky’s thrush do over the winter?”
“Every once in a while it’d flare up, especially if we didn’t keep his stall clean and dry. Dad said once a horse tangles with that nasty infection, he can get it again in a wink.”
“Yeah,” Morgan said, “I remember when we got him at auction. Auction horses are risky any way you look at it. Even then, he had a real bad case of thrush in that front right hoof.”
“And ever since then we’ve had to keep an eye on it,” Skye added.
Skye studied Chad as he cleaned both of the horse’s front hooves. “Uh-oh,” he said, still bent over with one hoof resting on his knee, “I think we have a touch of it right here on each side of this frog, Skye. Come here and look.”
Skye rushed to Chad’s side and examined Bucky’s hoof. The deep crevices on both sides of the tattered frog were lined with a pitch-black “dirt.” As Chad scraped it out, Bucky’s hoof gave off a smell that stank worse than last month’s garbage.
“Whew,” Skye said, “that’s thrush all right.”
Morgan set her soap and cloth on the saddle seat. “I’ll get the bottle of hydrogen peroxide.” She motored into the barn.
“In the meantime,” Skye said to Chad as she walked back to her own horse, “get some water and scrub that out real good.”
“Okay, Miss Ranch Boss! We’ll have Bucky fixed in no time.” Chad retrieved the hose, a scrub brush, and Skye’s bucket.
Standing several feet back from Champ, Skye kept an eye on Chad while she stared at the sorrel’s sparkling coat. The horse’s blaze and four socks looked like they had just been painted a glistening white. His long, silky mane and tail blew gently in the soft summer breeze.
“You are one beautiful hunk!” Skye said.
“Thanks!” Chad turned back and winked.
In vain, Skye looked for the closest groundhog hole in which to crawl. The summer sun, beating mercilessly, was a far second place to the heat radiating from her face once again. In one quick action, she grabbed a lead rope from a hook on the barn, snapped it onto her horse’s halter, and turned Champ in the direction of the paddock gate. “C’mon, boy! How about some lunch in the pasture?”
Squirt!
A shot of ice-cold hose water struck Skye’s back.
“Hey!” Skye jerked Champ to a stop and spun toward Chad.
Conveniently busy with Bucky’s hoof, Chad glanced up, the familiar devilish grin lighting up his face. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he joked.
“Very funny.” Skye led Champ to the gate, swung it open, and released her horse into the pasture. She tiptoed back to Chad and stood over his bent frame.
Splash!
Skye emptied the bucket of soapy water all over Chad’s back and took off.
“Yikes!” he yelled.
A safe distance away, Skye stopped, pointed at Chad, and doubled over in laughter. There he stood, drenched and dripping, his Stetson the only dry spot on him.
“What’s the matter?” Skye teased. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Why, you little brat!” Chad grabbed the hose, chasing Skye and soaking her relentlessly with long jets of icy water.
“Please! Don’t!” Skye yelled. “I’m getting—”
“Cloud, my Cloud in the Sky! I’ll help you, my sweetest girlfriend!” a voice shrieked from the back door of the house.
Down through the yard barreled a roly-poly sixteen-year-old boy dressed in a full cowboy suit with ten-gallon hat, boots, and two toy pistols in holsters. “I’ll save you, my lovely queen!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
“Oh, no!” Skye yelled. Stopping dead in her tracks, she stood while Chad’s hose continued to soak her from head to toe. “Joey, not now!”
S
kye and Chad stood, mouths wide open. Joey charged into the paddock, ripped the hose out of Chad’s hand, threw it on the ground, and ran to Skye. “I’ll save you from that beast!” he proclaimed, wrapping his arms around her in a full bear hug. “Stop it!” Skye yelled. “I’m okay! Let me go!” Paying no heed, Joey picked Skye up like a sack of potatoes, carried her out of the paddock, and dumped her on the backyard lawn. There Skye sat, a lump of dripping hair, soaking wet clothes, and fuming temper.
“Joey!” she screamed when she barely had recovered her breath.
With surprising balance, Joey spun on a dime. He drew his two six-shooters and made a beeline back to Chad, who beamed with a this-is-too-funny smirk in Skye’s direction.
“I’m the sheriff in these here parts,” Joey declared as he stood an arm’s length from Chad, “and don’tcha dare move. I gotcha covered.”
Chad, barely able to contain himself, raised his hands in mock full surrender. “Don’t shoot, Sheriff. I give up.”
Out of the barn came Morgan carrying a bottle of hydrogen peroxide on her lap. “What’s happening?” she asked, heading straight for Skye. “And what are you doing on the ground?”
From the back door of the house a familiar voice yelled, “Joey, we’re not done with your lesson!” Down through the yard, Mr. Chambers tore toward the sheriff. “Skye,” Mr. Chambers huffed as he raced by, “I’m sorry about this. Joey went AWOL on bathroom break. Are you hurt?”
“Not exactly,” Skye grumbled as she stood. Folding her arms tightly, she gave Joey a look that could have soured milk. “But he shows up at the worst times!”
Morgan started giggling.
“What’s so funny?” Skye blurted out as Morgan and the others quickly got the brunt of Skye’s sour look.
Mr. Chambers patted Joey on the back. “Nice job, Sheriff. I see you caught another one. But we need to go back in the house now, okay?”
“Should we stick ’im in jail, Mr. C.?” Joey holstered his pistols and squared his humongous hat on his bent ears. His beet red cheeks beamed with pride. “I can guard him all day long.”
“Oh, please don’t.” Chad went along with the charade. “I’ll be real good.”
“Oh, please!” Skye fumed. “This is so lame. I’m outta here!” She swept her straggled hair back off her face and stomped into the house.
Monday morning and the first day of riding lessons for the students arrived too soon. Already the entire summer had been ruined, as far as Skye was concerned, and it had just begun.
“I’ve never been so humiliated in my whole life!” she had complained to Morgan the night before. Now,
to make matters worse, Mr. and Mrs. Chambers had assigned Joey to Skye for all of his lessons. Aunt Dot in Charleston was looking better by the second!
Inside the barn on this gorgeous June day, Mr. Chambers, Morgan, and Chad were already busy showing three students how to groom their horses.
Skye and Mrs. Chambers were in the paddock tacking Champ and Bucky in their western gear.
Joey, in his cowboy outfit and rider’s helmet, stood on the opposite side of the paddock, examining the hinges on the gate. Engrossed in their purpose and function, he swung the gate open and closed, open and closed, open and closed…
“Mom,” Skye said under her breath as she adjusted Champ’s bridle, “why are you making me do this?”
“Do what, honey?” Mrs. Chambers maintained a neutral expression while throwing a saddle across Bucky’s back.
“You know I can’t stand Joey. We just don’t hit it off. So why did you and Dad pair me up with
him?”
Mrs. Chambers pulled Bucky’s cinch strap tight and secured it. “You two don’t hit it off? Hmm, I never got that impression. I thought Joey simply adored you.”
“That’s the problem!” Skye faced Mrs. Chambers. “He follows me around like a puppy, and tells me that he loves me, and calls me ‘Cloud, his girlfriend,’ and everybody thinks that’s so cute, but I—I could just die. He makes me feel like…well, I just don’t want to work with him. That’s all.”
Mrs. Chambers stepped back from Bucky and looked at Skye. Even in her Stetson’s shade, the woman’s deep blue eyes sparkled. “Honey, we believe it will be good for you to work with Joey for several reasons. Number one: Joey listens to you really well. Number two: Champ and Bucky are so similar in their training, it will be easy for the two horses to work together. Number three: since
Joey’s here at Keystone Stables for a second time, he’s what we call ‘advanced.’ And, Skye, you
are
our advanced student teacher.”
“And?” Somehow, Skye felt there was more to their decision. She turned toward Champ and started adjusting his cinch.
Mrs. Chambers touched Skye on the shoulder, and Skye slowly turned toward the woman. “I’m sure you recall Pastor Newman’s latest series of sermons on First Corinthians chapter thirteen. A Christian who doesn’t allow God to love through him—or her—is a poor example of what a Christian should be. Here you have an opportunity to really share Christ’s love. Because of Joey’s Down syndrome, he may never completely understand all about God and salvation and what it means, but he can feel Christ’s love through others. Through you.”
Deep in thought, Skye stared at the ground and adjusted her helmet’s strap.
Mrs. Chambers raised Skye’s chin, and Skye met the woman’s blue eyes again.
“Will you at least give it a try, for us…and for the Lord? That’s all we ask.”
“Oh, all right,” Skye conceded. “I’ll try.”
“Good girl.” Mrs. Chambers’ face lit up. “It might not be that bad. Remember, Champ will be right here with you the whole time.”
“Cloud, my girlfriend!” Joey yelled as he came running up to Skye. “Is it time to ride the horsey now? I’m all dressed. See?” Pride written all over his face, the boy glanced down at his clothes. He stroked his brand-new checkered shirt, finally grasping a gigantic tin star pinned to his chest. “I’m an official sheriff too. That’s what this here badge says. An official sheriff has to know how to ride a horsey. So let’s get goin’, okay? Cloud, my girlfriend, I love you. And Jesus loves you too!”
“See?” Skye directed her question to Mrs. Chambers.
Mrs. Chambers tightened Bucky’s cinch one more time then smiled at Joey. “Young man, I know you’re excited about getting started. We’ve got big plans for you this summer.”
“Like what, Mrs. C.?” Joey’s eyes lit up with the thought of any kind of surprise.
Skye abruptly turned her back to Joey as she checked Champ’s gear once more, tightening the cinch and adjusting the bridle’s cheek strap.
“Well,” Mrs. Chambers said, “since you went through all the beginner’s lessons last year, you’re going to learn a whole lot of brand-new things, such as how to canter on a lunging line, how to square up a horse, how to shave a horse’s whiskers—”
“Ooh,” Joey’s voice bubbled with excitement and he clapped his hands. “I saw Mr. C. do that last year. That makes the horsies look so-o-o pretty. You mean, I get to do that?”
“Yep,” Mrs. Chambers answered. “But the first thing you’re going to do today is take your first trail ride with Skye.” She untied Bucky from the fence and handed the reins to Joey. “Here’s your horse. You remember Bucky from last year, don’t you?”
Joey pushed the reins back into Mrs. Chambers’ hands, shuffled to Champ’s side, and grabbed the saddle’s horn. “But I don’t wanna ride Bucky. I wanna ride Cloud’s horsey. I wanna ride Champ!”
Like a lightning bolt, Skye pushed herself between Champ and Joey, forcing the boy back. She glared pitchforks at him and made a declaration that left no question of her intent. “Nobody but me rides my horse!”