Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail (25 page)

“You’re so much better then you were a few days ago, Hope,” Anne said, stroking the neck of the nursing foal. Hope swished her stub of a tail and Anne brushed a few flies away. Her tail would grow in time. As an orphan she had lost the protection of an overseeing mare that stood guard swatting away biting insects. Anne was the closest thing she had to a mom. Every worker at the center understood that each foal needed to be treated as an animal, not as a pet. Treating them respectfully would help them when it came time for adoption. The two mares that lived at the center helped give the young foals the nurturing they would need from other horses.

“I am so happy you’re getting stronger. We were really worried about you,” she said to the foal, which closed its eyes and sucked on the bottle. A few slurps later Hope was finished and stood, enjoying Anne’s attention while the others kicked their empty food buckets nearby.

Anne turned to watch a van coming up the long driveway. Jed, the man driving it, waved to her as he slowly continued along. Several children waved and Roxi began to run along the fence as if to chase the vehicle. Candy trotted after her, hoping for a carrot or an apple.

The van parked alongside a large barn that looked as if it had once been painted blue but now looked the color of faded jeans. This was home to the Hidden Valley Horse and Art Camp. One by one the children got out and ran to the corral next to the building. A few of the geldings that were used in the art camp met them at the rail looking for treats. A muscular white horse named Eclipse approached the fence. He stuck his head over and allowed some of the children to stroke his muzzle. He was mostly white with black ears and had a large black splash over his head and down his chest. His mane and tail were white and he had one black boot. He was special because of his Indian War Bonnet appearance and the children created many paintings and sketches of his unique markings. Beside him a smaller mustang named Dusky, who had gray and black markings, nudged his way into the crowd of noisy children. He wore the distinct Grulla zebra-like stripe down his back. He had three white stockings and his long black mane flashed with a touch of white and gray. Dusky was really striking and he too was the subject of many paintings in the classroom.

The Camp employed three teachers. Jed Carpenter, a college student studying to be an equine veterinarian, was also a gifted artist and his teaching style was mixed with humor. He made up lessons filled with fun games and the children laughed as they worked. Leah Small was a horse trainer who taught the children how to care for the orphaned foals. Each foal needed gentle training in order for it to be adopted. Leah’s methods helped the students learn how to communicate with horses in a language similar to the one the horses would know in the wild. She rarely raised her voice and her gentle firm commands helped produce calm foals ready for adoption. Sue Preston was the head teacher. She was a fine artist who enjoyed working with children. She had spent her childhood helping with the mustangs on her father’s ranch, where she learned not only to train horses, but also to capture their beauty in her paintings. Her grandchildren, Tracey and Mac, were among the students in the camp.

Across the pasture near the rescue center Anne led Hope to a paddock away from the other animals. She was still too fragile to be around the frisky foals. Hope seemed reluctant to follow and tugged at her tiny halter. “Oh, so you are feeling better,” said Anne as she coaxed the foal along. She finished up with a few chores and headed into her office.

Candy and Roxi were nipping and grooming each other’s backs in a shady corner. They were inseparable. There were four baby horses waiting to be adopted at the center. They were used in the camp to teach kids how to work with horses; the foals, in turn, learned how to interact with people. One was being cared for because its young mother had abandoned it. A photographer who had been following its band had delivered it recently. Another had lost its mother during a fierce storm when the mare and several other horses were struck by lightning. Sadly, the tiny foal stayed with its lifeless mother until being brought to the center. The other two were brought over by a BLM worker after both mothers had been killed in a round-up. The round-ups were extremely hard on the foals and they had both arrived scared and in shock. Luckily, they were not injured and the staff worked lovingly to gain their trust.

A black colt kicked up its heels as a car turned into the driveway and slowly approached the blue barn. Inside the vehicle sat two new students who were very excited. They were watching young foals playing and the two burros looking in their direction. The tiny palomino lying asleep on a bed of straw lifted her head and let out a tiny whinny. Dusky and Eclipse began their slow walk toward the rail to greet the car’s occupants. The students collected their backpacks and headed toward the door with the sign reading, “Hidden Valley Horse and Art Camp.” They heard the braying of Roxie and Candy, who seemed alarmed about something and they looked back in time to see a tiny palomino being led back to safety after wandering too far from its pen. It was the same little foal that they had held in their arms. The two girls exchanged glances of relief at seeing the adorable foal. Carrie and Milla weren’t sure they would ever see the tiny horse again. During the past few scary weeks Hope had taken a turn for the worse and Mrs. Burke had stopped calling with updates. And here was the foal, trotting along on a lead line and giving the girls exactly what they had held close to their hearts…hope.

Chapter 43

Thursday, July 10:

I saw fields and fields of rolling hills. They were made of patchwork fabric of beautiful colors. I saw greens and oranges, blues and small patterns of yellows and lavenders, and tiny specs of reds and purples. It felt as if I was flying and suddenly it went dark. Blackness was everywhere and then I saw blinking white lights that seemed to trace an outline of something. The lights started to go faster around and around the image and I saw an outline of a city skyline. It was glowing neon against the black background and then the lights began to fade and I woke.

Dad called yesterday and we had a long talk. I told him all about the camp and what I’m learning and he just got quiet. I think he’s upset about me starting to like it here. I told him I miss him and that I want him to come and visit. He told me about his trip to go see Granny and how he wished I were with him. I miss Granny’s homemade ice cream. Dad asked me to call her, but I never know what to say. She always talks to me like I’m five. I guess that’s because we never visited her much in South Carolina. I wonder if anyone will ever come visit me in Nevada? I’m way farther away than Granny’s house. I think Shannon would love camp. Today I’m gonna call her and tell her about my dream. Flannel is grounded again. I don’t think Sam likes her since she’s always chasing Max. Mom said I have to keep her on a leash or inside. I can’t wait to go to camp today. I hope Milla’s in a better mood. She’s always grouchy after staying at Mrs. Adams’ house.

Brenda spread a dab of mustard on the sandwich she was packing for her daughter’s lunch. “You really seem to like this horse camp a lot, Carrie. What will you be learning today?”

“I never know, Mom. There’s so much stuff they teach us. I never knew horses could talk with body language. I just thought they…you know, neighed.”

Brenda nodded as she zipped a few cookies into a plastic bag.

“I think it’s so cool that they’re teaching us how to look for signs, like how horses hold their heads, and raise and lower their ears, and shift their weight and stomp. It all has a meaning, even tail swishing is communication and not just for swatting flies. It’s unreal how much Mrs. Small knows about stuff like that. I feel like I’m learning a foreign language.”

“It really sounds like it,” her mother said. “I had no idea. And how is it working with the foals?”

“Well, we haven’t started that part yet. We work around Dusky and Eclipse—and man, are they beautiful, Mom. They’re really gentle and all, but Dusky doesn’t like his legs touched and Eclipse will nip you in the butt if you aren’t careful.”

“They bite?” asked Brenda in surprise. “No one said anything about biting. You’d better be careful, Carrie. I don’t like the sound of this.”

“Aw, Mom, chill out,” laughed Carrie. “Horses are sorta the same as people—they have personalities and even get moody. Sometimes they’re grumpy and sometimes they’re playful. We’re learning to be very careful around all horses because you never know what they’ll do next.”

Brenda thought to herself: Hmm, this sounds pretty much like my daughter.

“Eclipse is just like that cat Max,” continued Carrie. “You gotta watch your back with both of them.”

“Okay, I get it. This reminds me of when you took Flannel to obedience class. You learned all about dog language, remember?”

“Yeah, Mom, you’re so right! Geez, I forgot all about that. It really
is
a lot like that—how we can learn to pick up their signals and stuff. Cool. Thanks, Mom. I think I’ll be able to understand horse language easier now.”

Carrie waved goodbye and joined the other students at the rail who were petting Eclipse and Dusky. “Hey, Carrie, come look at Dusky’s new trick,” Mac said. Carrie watched as Tracey tickled Dusky’s lips. The horse looked as if it were smiling with lips pulled back revealing its very large front teeth. The kids all laughed and Dusky seemed to enjoy the attention.

“Not a good idea, kids,” Jed said, as he came out to see what all the laughter was about. The children stopped laughing and sheepishly backed away. “I’m not trying to scold you guys. It’s just that although it may seem that Dusky is playing, and he probably is, he can change his mind in a flash and bite you. He doesn’t mean to hurt people, but he may tire of this and it’s his way of saying ‘enough!’ I just don’t want any of you to get hurt. Okay?” he added, petting Dusky. The children nodded and moved closer to the horses, patting them gently. Jed waited for the arrival of a few more students before leading them inside to find their classrooms.

Carrie looked around, hoping Milla would show up. Milla seemed distracted and pretty much a grouch. Carrie had tried to make jokes and get her to lighten up, but lately Milla wasn’t in a jokey mood.

Jed began by telling the kids about the horses that found their way to the rescue center. Most came from the wild horse bands that lived in the Calico Mountains near Saddlecrest. “You may find it interesting that DNA studies are being done on every horse that is rounded up,” he told them. “This is how scientists determine their genealogy. It’s also used to ensure that the herd is passing on strong genes and not inter-breeding. Breeding with very close relatives can bring disease and make the band unhealthy.”

A girl named Tara in the front row raised her hand and asked, “Is it true that some of the wild horses came from the Army that rode horseback? My dad says one of my ancestors was in the U.S. Cavalry.”

“Yes, many of the horses used in the Cavalry were either let loose or escaped and joined the wild horses of the area. Now their genes are added to the mix.”

Carrie raised her hand. “So if a person wanted to, could they do a family tree on a horse just like on humans?”

“Good question,” the teacher said. “The horses in the wild would be harder to determine because they have mares that may get stolen by another stallion and therefore the offspring of one father is not even with the band. But in the case of, let’s say, professional breeders for domestic animals, it is exactly like a family tree. They have what’s known as their registration papers that include the names of all the sires and dams of each horse listed.”

“Oh, that’s so cool,” said Carrie, thinking about all of the hours spent working on her own family tree.

“There is some debate about the origins of the Mustang,” Jed continued. “We know for sure that many were brought over by the Spanish. Some modern horses have traces of equines arriving from Europe. While they are called wild mustangs, they are really made up of a lot of different species of horse. Much like yourselves. If you were to really look at your own DNA you would see that many of us came from all over the world. France, Spain, Russia, Italy, Ireland, Japan, Mexico…the list goes on and on.” Jed showed the class a poster of a world map that had horse species placed in the area that they originated from. He then handed out sheets that showed the DNA analysis of the local wild horses.

“We’ll have a guest coming in tomorrow to talk to you about the work being done and how this information is used to help manage the horses,” said Jed. “His name is Dr. Grieden and he’s a scientist and also a teacher at my college.”

Carrie looked closely at the report. Wow, my mom would love this class. Too bad they don’t have a horse camp for grownups, she thought. Jed held up a pack of flash cards that told something about the different breeds of horses. It was time for one of his fun games. He had illustrated the cards and talked about the technique he used in creating the artwork as he passed them out. Each student was given one card and told to find a partner.

Where’s Milla? Carrie wondered. She didn’t really feel comfortable picking a stranger for a partner. She looked out the window wishing Milla would suddenly appear. Just then a boy named Kris sat down next to her.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Carrie replied.

“Okay, everybody listen up,” Jed said. “You and your partner need to study the horses that you have on your cards. Ask questions and try to absorb everything about your breed. Memorize the descriptions, their appearance, where they originated from, and any interesting facts about them. In a little while we’ll have a Horse Bee. It’s like a spelling bee only you answer questions about the horses. The team that scores the most will win a prize. You have exactly fifteen minutes to study. When you hear the buzzer, stop and flip your cards over. Ready? Begin!”