Star Gazer (2 page)

“That's a good boy,” Jordan said, rubbing the horse's neck to comfort him. While she stood there, trying to decide what to do, the police and ambulance pulled up to the scene, their sirens blaring and lights flashing. The noise caused the old horse to jump around at the end of the reins, despite his injuries.

“Easy, easy,” Jordan crooned, placing a calming hand on the horse as she tried to avoid getting her toes stepped on by dancing hooves. Jordan breathed a sigh of relief when the EMTs finally turned off the obnoxious noise and the horse settled down. She decided to move him further down the road away from all the noise and confusion.

Mr. Fisher never got a chance to see how his horse was doing. The medics whisked him and Jacob into the ambulance and sped away. The second ambulance to arrive took care of the boys from the truck.

When the dust cleared, Jordan was left standing at the side of the road, still holding the reins. Her mother joined her and patted the old horse's head. “Looks like we're going to have a visitor for a few days,” she said.

“Really?” Jordan couldn't believe her ears.

Her mother nodded. “After I gave the policeman my statement, I tried to ask him about the horse, but he had to move on to the other people,” she said. “We can't leave him here by the side of the road. We're not too far from our house. If he can walk, get him heading our direction and keep him off to the side of the road so you're safe. I'll drive behind you with my safety lights flashing.”

Jordan turned the horse and started walking toward their new home. It didn't matter that he belonged to someone else and would only be with them for a day or two. They were going to have a real live horse in their barn!

two

Jordan spoke encouragingly to the horse as they walked along the shoulder of the road. The old gelding grunted and had a bad limp, but she thought he'd probably make it to their house okay if they took it slow. She could tend to his cuts and scrapes once she got him home. If things looked really bad, maybe her mom would ask a veterinarian to come look at him. She was sure that's what Mr. Fisher would want.

She fell into step beside the old bay horse. Every now and then he tugged at the reins, asking to stop and crop grass. If her mother hadn't been traveling behind them in the car with her flashers on, she might have given in to his begging.

She studied the horse as they walked. He had a long neck and body, and an angular head. Jordan wasn't sure what breed he was, but he looked rather sad with that long face.

When they reached their house, Jordan led the horse down the slight hill to the back of the property where the rickety old barn stood. She waited for her mother to park the car. “What do we do now?” she asked. “There aren't any stalls set up in the barn and most of the fences have a break in them.”

Her mother walked to the barn and pulled on the big door. It squealed in protest, then began to move slowly on the pulleys. Dust and cobwebs floated on the air, disturbed from their usual spot by this unexpected visit.

“I remember seeing an old halter and rope in here when I was exploring,” Mrs. McKenzie said, entering the barn. “Maybe we could tie him to the hitching post for a bit while we fix him a place to stay?”

Jordan squinted over at her mother in surprise. “Mom, the only thing we've ever built was a prefab birdhouse. Do you really think we can build a decent stall?”

“We can give it a good try,” she called from the interior of the barn. “Ah, here it is!” Jordan's mom emerged victoriously with a faded blue halter and rope in her hand. She handed them to Jordan. “Honey, you're going to have to do this part of it. It's been a long time since I've put a halter on a horse.”

Jordan gently removed the bridle, being careful not to bang the bit on the old horse's teeth. She quickly slipped the dusty halter over the gelding's head. “What should we call him?” Jordan said, finger-combing the horse's tangled mane. “We don't know his name, but we've got to call him something—especially if he might be with us for a day or two.”

Her mother thought for a moment. “Seems like the Amish would prefer simple names for their horses.”

“I think I'll call him Bob.” Jordan laughed. “It's a simple name. And did you see the way he bobs his head when he walks?”

“Well, then, why don't you tie
Bob
to the hitching post,” her mother suggested. “I'll find something for him to eat. There are a couple of broken bales of hay in the back corner. They look pretty old, but I think they're still good. While Bob's munching on hay, we can change our clothes and find something to doctor those cuts with. That huge scrape on his hip has got to be painful. I don't see anything that needs stitching, but we still might have to call the vet.”

“Can we afford that?” Jordan knew money was tight. The move from California had taken most of her mom's savings.

Her mother paused. “Mr. Fisher would probably take care of the bill. If not, I'm sure we can work something out. Bob needs a vet, and we can't let him suffer.”

“I have my savings,” Jordan said. “We can use some of that if we have to.”

Her mom smiled. “You keep your savings, Jordan. I know how hard you've worked to get it. We've got to make sure Bob is okay, then get him back to his owner as soon as possible.”

“Maybe they'll let us keep him for a while?” Jordan said hopefully.

Her mother frowned. “Jordan, don't even go there,” she warned. “He doesn't belong to us, and you know we can't afford a horse right now. I was lucky to find a job—such as it is—as quickly as I did.”

Jordan sighed as she tethered the old horse to the rail outside the barn, but her mood brightened when she looked at old Bob. She'd make the best of the short time he was here. This was going to be fun!

Jordan ran to the house and changed clothes. On the way out, she raided the medicine cabinet for any supplies she could use to help old Bob. She grabbed some antiseptic ointment, Betadine scrub, cotton balls, and gauze pads. She stopped at the garage and picked up a wash bucket and sponge, then headed back to the barn.

The bay was nibbling on some hay when she got there. His ears flicked back and forth at the sound of her unloading the medical supplies. Jordan could tell by the way Bob shifted his weight from leg to leg that he was in pain.

Her mother brought a few more medical supplies she'd found. “I called a veterinarian, just in case.” She set down some old Ace bandages—leftovers from her workout days—and pulled her shoulder-length brown hair back in a rubber band. “His name is Dr. Smith. He'd already heard about the accident—news travels fast around here. He said it was a miracle Fisher's old horse had walked away from it.”

“That's for sure,” Jordan agreed.

“The vet was very nice,” her mom said. “He volunteered to examine Bob for free and said he'll get here as soon as he's able. In the meantime, we're supposed to start treating Bob's wounds.”

Jordan picked up the wash bucket and squeezed in a little Betadine and some soap. “I should have gotten warm water while I was in the house.” She frowned at her lack of planning.

“That's okay.” Her mother grabbed the bucket and carried it to the hose. “It's been pretty warm today. The water that's been sitting there in the hose has been heating under the sun all afternoon.”

Jordan grinned. “You mean we've got solar power now?”

Her mother laughed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. This will give us at least half a bucket of warm water to work with. Now, let's get busy. I'll call the hospital later and let Mr. Fisher know we have his horse.”

They started on Bob's face, washing the cuts and scrapes, then moved down his neck to his withers, back, and sides. Jordan noticed that patches of hair were missing from his hide where he'd been knocked to the pavement when the truck hit the rear of the carriage.

The horse flinched in pain every time they hit one of those spots. Jordan tried to be as tender as possible. Her heart ached for the poor animal, and her anger rose toward the two arrogant boys who had caused this damage. She hoped they had to go to jail—or at least got grounded for life!

She thought about Mr. Fisher and Jacob and hoped that they were doing well in the hospital. She wondered if Jacob would come with the elderly man to pick up his horse.

“You've been standing there holding that sponge for a long time,” her mother said. “Where is your mind wandering?”

Jordan didn't want to meet her mom's eyes. “Nowhere,” she said and quickly bent to wash the old horse's legs. Her mother gave her an odd grin, but Jordan ignored it and focused her attention on the horse and away from silly daydreams.

“What do you think will happen to the two boys who caused the accident?” Jordan asked.

“I don't know,” her mother said. “But it was lucky that no one was killed.” She shook her head. “I don't understand how they can let a horse and buggy go right down the same road with vehicles. It seems so dangerous for the buggies,” she said. “But one of the ladies at work said the court determined that their buggies have a right to be on the road, too, as long as they have signals on them.”

Jordan scrunched up her lips, thinking. Life here was so different. She'd seen horses pulling carriages in other towns. But they were for tourists to use in designated areas, and they moved very slowly. They weren't going down the same road as cars that were driving fifty miles per hour.

They finished caring for the horse, and Jordan's mom turned to toss the dirty water under a nearby elderberry bush. “I guess we should get started on that stall so Bob has a place to stay. I'd rather not leave him tied to the post all night.”

Jordan ran up to the house to find a couple of hammers and some nails. This was going to be quite an experiment. Between her mother's carefully manicured fingernails and Jordan's total lack of carpentry skills, they were in for an interesting time.

But two hours later they had created a stall that seemed pretty solid—strong enough to hold old Bob, at least. They scattered some of the straw they'd found in the loft of the barn, tossed a flake of fresher-looking hay into the corner, and then turned the old bay loose in the stall. Jordan went in search of something to use as a water bucket for Bob while her mom watched the horse munch his hay. By the time she returned, Bob was lying in the deep bedding, almost asleep.

“He's had quite a day,” Mrs. McKenzie said.

Jordan nodded. She rested her chin on the top of the stall door and sighed. “Even though he's not ours, it feels good to have an animal here on the farm. It seems…
right.”

Her mom thought for a moment. “Yeah. There were always lots of animals around when I was a kid,” she said. “They're a lot of work. Maybe one of these days we can talk about getting a dog or something. But, you're right, it does feel good to have old Bob here.”

Surprised at her mom's answer, Jordan quickly pounced on the opportunity. “Maybe we could get some farm animals?” When she saw her mother about to disagree, she quickly added. “We could start with something small, like a goat, or some chickens. They wouldn't cost much to feed. You know that livestock auction we pass on the way out of town? Maybe we could look there someday?”

Her mother picked up the hammers and the box of nails. “Don't push your luck, Jordan. For now let's just worry about getting Bob fixed up and back to his owner. I'm heading to the house to start dinner.”

Jordan watched her mom walk from the barn. She sighed. How was she ever going to talk her mother into letting her have a horse when she couldn't even convince her to buy a couple of stupid chickens?

three

Jordan got up early the next day to take care of Bob. His wounds were looking better already. As she changed the old horse's bandages, she wondered how Mr. Fisher and Jacob were doing. Maybe her mother would call the hospital later and get the news. She finished dressing Bob's wounds and gave him breakfast, then made her way back to the house. She wanted to get started on her other chores right away. It was already muggy, and their house didn't have air-conditioning.

Pushing open her bedroom door, Jordan stared at the clutter. An assortment of boxes and crates stood stacked against her bedroom wall. They'd been there for the past two weeks and she couldn't bring herself to unpack them.

At thirteen, Jordan was starting a brand new life—for the second time. The first change had come two years ago when her father had left—just up and walked away like he was stepping out of an old pair of shoes. And now, here was major life-change number two, life in a small town after growing up in a humongous city.

She leaned on the paint-chipped windowsill and looked out her window. The old farmhouse where they now lived had once belonged to her grandmother. Without this place, they wouldn't have had anywhere to go when their money ran out in L.A.

They hadn't seen her grandmother very often in recent years, but Jordan remembered visiting here a couple of times when she was very young. Her crayon drawing of a horse still showed through the thin coat of paint on the closet wall. She smiled to herself. Even back then, she had known that she wanted a horse.

Mary McKenzie entered the room, heels clicking smartly on the old wooden floor. “Honey, those boxes aren't going to unpack themselves,” she said, searching through her battered purse for her car keys. “I've got to run to the hardware store for some screws to put up that big shelf in the living room. How about getting some of them unloaded before I get back?”

Jordan said goodbye to her mom and reached for the closest box. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she lifted out some books and a small reading lamp and placed them on the floor beside her.

A soft knock sounded on the door. Her mother must have forgotten something. “It's open,” Jordan said, pulling some horse statues from the box.