Saving Hope

Copyright © 2022 S.J. Palmer.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Editor: Cindy Ray Hale

The Christian Standard Bible. Copyright © 2017 by Holman Bible Publishers.

Used by permission. Christian Standard Bible®, and CSB® are federally

registered trademarks of Holman Bible Publishers, all rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4077-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4076-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4897-4078-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022904525

LifeRich Publishing rev. date: 03/29/2022

CONTENTS

Written In Fiction

Dedication

Prologue

1     A Startling Encounter

2     Last Summer

3     Split Up

4     Nice And Easy

5     Nightmare

6     A Search

7     Lesson Learned

8     Another Option

9     New Adventure

10   Rough Start

11   Getting Settled

12   Rules And Regulations

13   Teammates

14   Finding Common Ground

15   Phone Service

16   Competitive Newbie

17   Practicing

18   Announcement

19   Talking Things Out

20   Prep Work

21   Truce

22   Routine

23   Trekking Through Trees

24   Chase

25   Broken Truce

26   New Enemies

27   Bruised And Battered

28   Friend

29   Sneaking Out

30   Reunion

31   Assistance

32   Goodbye

33   Safe And Sound

34   Tell Us Everything

35   Parting Ways

36   Stretch Our Legs

Glossary

Acknowledgments

About The Author

WRITTEN IN FICTION

Unfortunately, I must tell you that the story written in the pages to come is fiction. Similarities between the characters and real people is accidental . . . mostly. I’ll admit, a few of the characters were written to act like someone I know. I’d like to think that all the best characters have a little bit of fact and a little bit of fantasy to them. It helps these characters come to life. Please enjoy the pages that follow as a place that can be built in your heart, and hopefully, you will see it as real in its own special way, just like I do.

DEDICATION

To Dad and Mom who raised me to work for the things I dreamed,

To my siblings who listened to all my ideas,

To all of my grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins who cheered me on,

To the friends who challenged me to become a better writer,

To God who gave me the words,

This book was not created by my strength alone. Thank you.

Prologue

I RAN LIKE the wind, my feet barely touching the dry crusted ground. My hair caught in the breeze, sweeping over my powerful shoulders. Everything was silent except the thudding of my hooves. The sound resembled a drum. Thump . . . thump . . . thump. . . . Thump . . . thump . . . thump. . . .

The wind gusted slightly, leaves rustling in the breeze. I followed an old trail made by all the animals who walked its surface. Inhaling through my nose, I breathed in the sweet aromas of nature. My home. It had always been the same—steady and true.

I could never have imagined the change coming. I could never have prepared myself for what was about to happen next, but I knew I could do anything one hoof at a time. My heart beat rapidly as it sensed life had changed. For good or bad, I did not know. But I did know one thing: I was Skytears, a mustang, wild and free.

1

A Startling Encounter

THIS SUMMER WOULD not end up like last year. I would make sure of it. It was the last day of school, and freedom had arrived. I had aced all my tests, and my teachers were proud of me. And by teachers, I meant my mom and dad. You see, I was homeschooled, but my parents were not at all easy on me. My mother didn’t believe in me being the type of homeschooler who stayed in her pajamas all day. She believed I had a gifted brain. So that meant if I flew through a subject in school, I would have another one to take its place immediately. Learning, how fun.

But today, everything changed because summer had arrived. I had just sprinted out the door after the last day of school for a long, sunny ride when my mom called after me.

Hope, she said. You forgot to muck out the stalls last night, so before you go out gallivanting, you need to clean them. I tried not to moan. How had I forgotten to clean them? It seemed to me there was always a stall needing work. But it was way better than staying inside all day, and it would only take a few minutes if I hurried. I ran to the barn.

Only one stall was in use right now because most of the horses stayed in the pastures or in the corral. We had six horses we rode that helped with work on the ranch. There were also a couple dozen other horses we trained and sold or kept for breeding mares. Our horses at Watkins’ Wild Ranch, located on the outskirts of Penshaw, Oklahoma, were prized, strong, work horses, and some of them were even rescued mustangs. About fifty years ago, wild horses roamed free on this land we now called home. We named our ranch for its history and added our last name: Watkins.

My horse Chance acted like he still lived on the open range, and I guessed it made sense, since his bloodlines were all mustang. His beautiful, buckskin coat and independent personality reminded me daily of where his roots grew—but I loved him anyway.

His mom was a mustang we’d rescued, and one day, she disappeared. We didn’t see her again until one morning, about three months after she disappeared, I walked into the kitchen and almost yelped. The mare had stuck her head in the window and was eating the sugar plum pie my mom had made the day before. Somehow, she had knocked out the protective screen in the window. The mare’s name was Sugar, which suited her just fine. Several months later, she had a beautiful colt. So I named him Chance because without his mom accidentally getting out, I wouldn’t have him as my wonderful horse.

While I headed for the barn, I heard a tiny bark and glanced over to see my little Australian Shepherd puppy, Wolf, racing beside me. His blue merle fur didn’t look like a wolf, but I was hoping he would grow into the name. For now, he was all cuddles and no bite. Mom and Dad decided when I turned fourteen this year, I was old enough to have my own puppy. I couldn’t wait to teach him all kinds of tricks and train him to help me with my chores. Right now, though, he just ate and played, which was fine by me. He was undeniably adorable.

I was almost to the barn by now, and Wolf had given up the race and started waddling back to his tiny doghouse on the far side of our house. He was still really young and got tired quickly. I heard a soft, little neigh and turned my attention back to the barn. The call had come from the only horse that currently resided inside the barn: a cute filly named Butterscotch.

When I opened the stall door, Butterscotch nuzzled my pockets looking for treats, knowing that I loved bringing them for the horses. My dad didn’t really like it though. He said it spoiled them, but Mom did it too, so there was nothing Dad could do.

Chance must have seen me head into the barn because I heard him whinny. I’ll be there in a second, I called to him. I cleaned the stall out as fast as I could. When I was done, I carefully exited without Butterscotch escaping. The filly was always getting into mischief, so we had to keep a close eye on her. I gave her the carrot I had brought for her and then headed for the fifteen-acre pasture where Chance was.

Closest to the fence was my black Shetland pony, Dash, and sadly, he didn’t live up to his name. I had gotten him as a birthday present on my sixth birthday, and he seemed proud of the fact that he was the first horse I’d ever had for my own. He loved to eat and never, ever ran. He walked, and at best, trotted. But every little kid loved to name their horse something like Lightning or Flash, so I named him Dash.

I rode Dash until I was eight, and by then, I had really outgrown him. We ended up keeping Dash because he was too cute to give away. Now, eight years after I’d gotten him, he was still no bigger or faster, and he was just as fat. He came up to the fence and started rubbing his nose against my hand, probably looking for food.

The other five horses in the pasture had come closer to Dash and me to see what was happening, including the two my parents rode: a chocolate-brown mare and a dun gelding. Chance walked up to the fence and nipped the other horses like a bad boy as if to tell them, Hey, back off. She’s come to see me.

Well, aren’t you a hot shot, I said with a giggle. I wasn’t worried. Chance hadn’t really hurt the other horses. I opened the gate, and he trotted through, not needing a halter because he followed me like a dog. This was probably because I was almost always carrying food. Today was not one of those days. Butterscotch had cleaned me out.

I walked into the barn and grabbed the tack for Chance. I also got a brush. After, I put his halter on and tied him loosely to a post. I gave him a good brushing and massage. He moaned contentedly as I groomed him. When I was done, I started to tack him up. As I was putting the saddle pad on him, he snorted.

Why did you stop brushing me? he seemed to ask.

Stop acting lazy, I reprimanded him. Once I had saddled him, I walked Chance to the bridge that crossed the river and ran to the south of the house. He crossed it with ease. Once I had him all the way across, I swung up on him easily and kissed him on the neck. Good boy, I told him. Now, let’s ride.

We trotted down a path leading to my best friend, Katherine Foster’s, house that stretched beyond, branching out in several different directions. I felt at ease here on the trail only Kat and I knew about. The Oklahoma morning was warm, but not scorching, and a slight breeze rustled the grass: a perfect day. The trail was a single-horse dirt path with green trees hanging over it like a tunnel, starting just to the left of the bridge at my house. In the late spring and early summer, the trail was outstandingly gorgeous with green leaves, cool brown soil, and soft short grass. The view gave me hope for what was to come. It was like a sign that this summer would be everything I had dreamed over the last year: three months of adventure, warmth, friendship, and laughter. I clucked to Chance, asking him to trot. He complied, and I began to think on where Kat and I would ride today.

I had brought my saddle bags with two sandwiches and two apples in one bag, and in the other, I had pencils and a sketchbook in case we stopped for a break. I could see an opening in the trail now. Beyond the exit, a seemingly empty pasture sprawled across the open field. I loped Chance around the pasture and past the barn.

Up ahead stood a beautiful wooden house with two stories. I slowed Chance to a smooth walk and glanced around, looking for Kat. I spotted her holding the gate of a big, round pen open. Her dad, John Foster, her brother, Austin, and some of the ranch hands herded about twenty young cattle from the grazing land on the far side of the house into the pasture.

A gust of wind caught Kat’s chocolate-colored hair and blew it into her face. When she brought her hand up to push back the strand, I saw the concentration in her ocean-blue eyes. Her usual smile colored her face, the energetic way about her the same as always. When I had talked to Kat on the phone the night before, she had said her family would be moving their stock from the grazing land into a big pen so they could be fattened for the auctions. I guessed it was happening now.

I walked Chance toward the wooden gate—being careful not to scare or get in the way of the cattle—and was about to ask Kat What’s up? when I heard something. The rattling sound was so terrible it chilled my bones. I glanced down and saw a long grayish-brown creature. My eyes got as big as saucers. I pulled back on the reins, but it was too late. Chance reared and let out a high-pitched cry of alarm. I flew backward, and for a moment, I floated. Then I landed smack down on my back. The air whooshed out of me. There was a pounding sound in my ears.

Hope, Kat yelled, her voice sounding garbled and weird to my ears. I looked to my left and detected the snake slithering off into the tall grass. Good, I thought. By the time Kat got to my side, I had caught my breath and was sitting up. My head was still pounding, but the noise was subsiding.

Are you okay? she asked in a panic.

Yeah, I assured her, getting up and dusting off my pants and shirt. Where’s Chance? I asked.

He’s fine, Kat told me, pointing to a cowboy who now held Chance’s reins. One of the ranch hands grabbed him when he spooked.

That was close, I told Kat.

Hardly, Kat whispered in a panic. An uneasiness showed in her eyes that couldn’t have just come from the snake and my rough dismount. Where did all the cattle go?

2

Last Summer

I GLANCED AROUND in a panic. Sure enough, all the cattle had disappeared. Uh . . . oh, I said.

You can say that again, Kat replied. We better go see if we can help find them.

Good idea, I agreed.

As we were walking up to the men, I heard one of them say, The cattle spooked after the little lady fell.

They went everywhere, but most of them headed toward the thicket over there, another cowboy said, gesturing across the ranch at a big thick mesh of blackberry vines, flowers, and trees. I had reached the crowd now, and Kat stood right next to me. Someone else had joined the crowd too. Mrs. Elizabeth Foster, who everyone called Liz, was Kat’s mom. She was in her late thirties with long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. Her brown eyes were inviting, like hot chocolate during a winter storm. She was fit to work, but she had a gentle heart.

I’m sorry I scared the cattle, I told her.

It wasn’t your fault, dear, she said sweetly. The snake just spooked your horse who spooked the cattle. I felt better after that, but not much. Brushing my own dirty blonde hair out of my face, I looked around at the people. They were all talking amongst themselves, planning what to do next. They weren’t focused on Kat and me, which I was relieved to see. None of them seemed mad at me, but they probably weren’t happy they now had another thing to deal with. I sighed. This day just took a turn for the worst.

A nagging feeling began in the pit of my stomach. Was this the beginning of a terrible list of events that would lead to everything falling apart? Would I end