Undying Hope

Chapter 1

The whinnying became louder as we approached the barn. The sign that had once read "Icelandia Farms," was now barely readable and hanging off of the post on its last nail. As I swung the door open, I saw six downcast horses stuck in stalls that smelled as if they hadn't been cleaned in a month. As I hurried to the first horse's stall, I stopped to read the brass nameplate on the stall door. In curvy font it read, Channeler's Joy. "Hey buddy," I crooned, "Let's get you out of here." I led him out to our truck with the eight horse trailer attached to the back.  

We had been called by Animal Control about an hour ago; that is when they informed us about this situation. Evidently, the owners had deserted the house about two weeks ago, and the neighbors had been feeding and watering the horses. The neighbors alerted Animal Control, and they contacted us, Peaceful Mountain Horse Rescue. We own the biggest horse rescue in all of Eastern Maryland and are often notified about horse abuse and neglecting cases. My name is Madison Stevens and I am thirteen. (People call me Maddie for short.) I have spent my whole life around horses and loving every minute of it.  

As I led Channeler into the trailer, I took a good look at him. He was a beautiful Irish Sport Horse and looked as if he had good blood lines. He was blood bay, with dark, searching eyes, and long, slender legs. I hooked his new halter (we stopped at the tack store to by halters for our new horses on our way here) to the tie ring in the trailer, gave him a pat, and left to go help with the rest of the horses.  

As I approached the barn, I heard sniffles coming from inside. I rushed into the barn, finding my mom shakily buckling the halter of a strawberry roan colored Hanoverian. "Mom what's wrong?" I whisper. "Look at her back and legs, they are covered in nasty scrapes and bug bites," she said. "Oh mom, I'm sure she'll be okay," I said, biting my lip and trying not to cry. "Come on let's get her loaded in the trailer, she'll need some veterinary attention when get home," I said authoritatively. As we lead her out of the stall, I looked at her nameplate, it read, "Leliana."  

As I reached the next horse, I was relieved to find that she was in much better condition than Leli (my nick name for Leliana.) Her name was The Glory of Jasmine, and I took her out to the trailer quickly, knowing that we needed to hurry. It would be dark in an hour and a half. Jasmine was jet black with a white star on her face. She looked as of she were a Dutch Warmblood, and was breed for jumping.  

As my mom came up the ramp leading a very overweight mare who's name was Moonlight Midst, my mother read my thoughts and stated, "She'd pregnant, meaning that one of the two remaining horses is probably a stallion." "Great, a stallion, they are known for being hard to manage!" I said, clearly annoyed. 

I went into the barn to rescue the stallion when I noticed a slightly cracked open door. I slowly opened it, and was very surprised when I saw what the room contained. Inside was some of the most beautiful English tack I had ever seen. There were jumping saddles, dressage saddles, beautifully woven bridles, grooming buckets, and other things English riders need. On top of one of the wooden tack trunks there was a note, it read, "If you are reading this now, I hope you are here to help my horses; you are welcome to take the tack and all of the horses. Please take care of them. We had to leave quickly, I am sorry for not notifying anyone about our abrupt departure. Thank you again, and God Bless." "Mom, Mom!" I yelled, "Look at this!" I handed the letter to her. "Wow, these people really cared about their horses," she said happily. "Maddie, go load up the other two horses and I'll work on the supplies," she said. "Ok," I replied. 

The stallion, named Thunder's Bang, load surprisingly well, and Ray of Sunlight also behaved nicely. Thunder was probably a Thoroughbred, he was chestnut color with long slender legs, and Ray was a quarter horse with palomino coloring. I made sure they were all settled, and then brought up the ramp on the trailer, enclosing the horses in the van. None of them made a peep; they were all to busy enjoying the hay nets that we packed for them earlier. 

There was little left in the tack room when I went to help my mom. Most it had already been loaded into the trailer's tack room. I grabbed the last two grooming buckets and my mom took the letter and slipped the horses nameplates out of their brass holders on each stall. "Okay, I think we are ready to go." she stated. I agreed, and tiredly trudged outside.

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