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.”
“Ten-four, 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 to crawl into. 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
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.”
“Ten-four, 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 to crawl into. 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
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