Finny and the Boy from Horse Mountain Read online

  FINNY

  and the Boy

  from Horse

  Mountain

  FINNY

  and the Boy

  from Horse

  Mountain

  ANDREA YOUNG

  Sky Pony Press

  New York

  Copyright © 2013 by Andrea Young

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

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  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Young, Andrea (Andrea Margery), 1963-

  Finny and the boy from Horse Mountain / Andrea Young. pages cm

  Summary: Fourteen-year-old Finny acquires a horse without her parents knowledge and enlists the help of young Joe, a runaway, to help her train to compete in horse shows, but Joe is kidnapped and it is up to Finny and her horse, Sky, to save him.

  ISBN 978-1-62087-682-4 (hardcover : alk. paper) [1. Horses--Training--Fiction. 2. Runaways--Fiction. 3. Family life--California--Fiction.

  4. Kidnapping--Fiction. 5. California--Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.Y8453Fin 2013

  [Fic]--dc23

  2012050784

  Printed in the United States of America

  This book is dedicated to the horse world’s unsung

  heroes, the school horse. Without their giant hearts and

  gentle souls no rider great or small would exist.

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to: My manager and friend, Bonnie Burns, my literary agent, Colleen Mohyde, my editor, Lilly Golden, and to my friends Janice Leonard and Diane Fadok for your support and encouragement Without you ladies my dream never would have come true. Thanks, also, to Lisa Dearing for her stunning photograpic image on the cover. And lastly a giant thank you to my darling student Ivey Burns and her giant Thoroughbred Duke for gracing the cover of my book.

  Chapter One

  WITH A SOLID BANG THE DOORS SLAMMED shut. The bus rumbled away, leaving Finny in a cloud of gray dust and choking exhaust. She took a long look at the desolate surroundings. Two thoughts crossed her mind: One, no one knew she was here, and two, if her mom found out what she was doing, she was so dead.

  Typical for July in California, the temperature was over a hundred and Finny was beginning to sweat. Not just from heat and not just because she had lied to her mom; plain and simple, she was scared. After a deep breath to steady her nerves, Finny started walking.

  Crazy Chester was leaning against his rotting wooden porch when Finny came down the dirt drive. His horse, soon to be hers, stood quietly by his side. Finny was afraid of Crazy Chester. All the kids were; his name scared them off, which probably was the point.

  Chester handed Finny the lead rope, turning away to hide the tears in his eyes. “He’s got the blood of champions running through him, girl, remember that.”

  Geez, he’s old, Finny thought of Chester. She wasn’t sure how old. Somewhere near a hundred was her guess, but she wasn’t that good at aging old people.

  The old man patted the big bay horse’s neck. He didn’t want to give up his horse, or his home. But like his horse, Chester was thin, malnourished, and neglected. His house, little more than a shack, was falling down. The county intervened, then, finally, his family.

  Chester didn’t seem crazy to Finny now, and it broke her heart to see him cry. She hadn’t thought really old people cried. She thought they had life so figured out that nothing made them sad anymore.

  “I promise I’ll give him a super good home. I work at Silver Spur Equestrian Center. I know all about horses and how to take care of them.”

  “That’s good, girl. I know you’d treat him right, could tell soon as I saw ya.” Finny had told Chester her name was Josephine, or Finny for short, but he continued to call her “girl” anyway.

  “His father was blazing fast, girl, blazing fast, unbeatable on the track, set to be the next Seabiscuit, no question about it.” Finny watched Chester grow young as he spoke.

  “His first race . . . won by three lengths, second race, seven, by the third, people were showin’ up just to see him. I had the jockey hold him back, didn’t want everyone to know what we had. That’s strategy, girl. It’s not just fast horses that win races.” Crazy Chester tapped his crooked finger to his temple. “You gotta be smart. Sky’s father won that race by four lengths, jockey said he wasn’t even trying.” Chester’s young eyes dimmed. “The fifth was the end. I’d like to think it wasn’t by a man’s hand and it was an act of God, but I’ll never know for sure. When a one-in-a-million horse shows up, it gets some people nervous. Throws things out of kilter. Suddenly what was a great horse no longer measures up.” Chester gave a small sad shake of his head, his faraway look still deeply vested in the past.

  “Bell rang and the gate stuck half open. All thousand pounds of him crashed into it. The horse jammed half through then thrashed and fought to get loose. The jockey jumped clear, but the horse, in a panic, flipped. By the time we got the gate opened and him free, it was too late. His leg was broke.” Chester took a deep breath, then a handkerchief from his pocket and dried his eyes. “Saddest day of my life. Doc said there was nothing they could do . . . a part of me died with him that day.”

  Finny’s eyes stung hot trying hard not to cry when Chester looked her way.

  “Sorry, girl, got lost in the past. Just wanted to let you know about your horse and where he’s from.”

  “Please tell me everything, if you don’t mind.” The moment Finny had laid eyes on the horse her heart went out to him. He carried a regalness that defied his pitiful condition.

  “Not at all, girl, not at all.” Chester cleared his throat and readjusted his thin backside on the porch. “So, that was the end of an era for my wife and me, God rest her. I’d planned after a few years of racing to retire him to stud. He could pass on his lightning speed and we could sit back and collect the stud fees, but of course that never happened. . . . Well, we didn’t know it happened. Turned out the little rascal, not even three years old, had jumped the fence into the neighbor’s pasture. This neighbor had champion warmblood jumping horses. I’m talking World Cup horses, best money can buy. The next morning the groom found him and walked him over and put him back in our corral. He didn’t know my horse wasn’t a gelding so he never mentioned it to anyone. But as months passed, my neighbor noticed his most prized horse, his World Cup–winning mare, kept gaining weight. Sick with worry, he had the vet out only to find out she’s pregnant.” A big crooked smile crossed Chester’s face, making Finny smile too.

  “So, my neighbor calls me up and, after talking to the groom, we figured out what happened. I tell you, girl, he was beyond mad. If steam could come outta ears it would’ve been doing it then. His warmblood that was scheduled to fly to Europe to compete in the Olympic trials had to stay home to have a thoroughbred’s baby.” Chester slapped his thigh and laughed like it happened yesterday. “I was thrilled t
o have a part of my great horse alive, but as a thoroughbred-warmblood cross he’d never race, and my neighbor only had purebred warmbloods. He had no use for a cross, but I didn’t mind. When Sky was weaned, the groom brought him here and he’s been with me ever since.”

  Finny traced her fingers lightly down the horse’s soulful face. Kind, intelligent eyes looked back at her. “I understand why you think he’s destined to be a champion.”

  “It’s not just his mom and pop, girl. This horse is all heart, all heart.” Chester began to choke up again. Finny tried to steer him back to things positive.

  “So, you call him Sky?”

  “I named him that ’cause the sky’s the limit for this horse. I bet there ain’t nothing he can’t do.”

  “Wow, great name. How old is he?”

  “Heavens, going on twelve by now I guess.”

  “Oh, that’s not too old. How is he to ride?”

  “Don’t know, never broke him. By the time he was old enough, my wife had passed, I’d gotten sick, and next thing I know my kids are making me move into some concentration camp they’re passing off as a retirement village.” Chester gave a pained chuckle at his statement, not bitter, just resolved.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, girl. I’m glad Sky here has someone now who can get him trained up. He’d never race, but I bet, like his momma, he could jump and if he has half the speed of his papa, well . . . the sky’s the limit.”

  “Thanks, Chester, thanks for letting me have him. I won’t let you down.”

  “I asked at the feed store about you. They told me you’d treat him right and that’s what matters to me.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  “Okay, girl. Good luck. Sky, prove me right.” Chester gave his final pat, then climbed the stairs to his porch and went into his house.

  As hard as it was on Chester, Finny wanted to get Sky gone as fast as she could. On the road and around the corner, the horse stopped and looked back. It occurred to Finny that at twelve years old, since he wasn’t broke and Chester was elderly, this most likely was the first time he’d ever left the property. Finny stroked Sky’s face, then pulled again, urging him to follow. Other than not wanting to go, he wasn’t fighting her.

  Now out of Chester’s sight, Finny gave the horse a more objective once-over. He was very tall, over seventeen hands, dark, dark bay without a white mark on him. He was also painfully thin and had several bald patches across his back and hindquarters, and a huge solid knot for a tail.

  Sky, still looking toward his home, nickered softly, breaking Finny’s heart. She knew taking him was for the best, but Chester was all he’d known and she was sure Sky loved him.

  A few gentle tugs got him moving again. It was getting late. Her original plan had been to ride him home. At a trot or gallop the eleven miles could be made in an hour or so. Finny hadn’t known Sky wasn’t broke and in such bad shape. At the rate they were moving, it’d be dark before they got back.

  It was unlikely her mom would be mad if she were late. Probably wouldn’t notice. Finny’s twin half sisters, just four, kept her very busy.

  Sky tugged at Finny’s arm. She found he was like a huge puppy seeing the world for the first time. Sky wasn’t afraid of the new things. He stalled at a trash can left by the side of the road for pickup. Finny was certain he’d spook but instead he dragged her to it and dunked his head in. After a laugh and a firm pull she was able to get his head out of the fascinating trash can and get him moving again. She was quickly falling in love.

  Now out of the neighborhood, the pair stayed off the road and used the trails through the fields. The roads would have been faster, but introducing the horse to noisy, fast-moving cars would come when Finny knew him better. If he were to spook and bolt, stopping him would be impossible.

  Up ahead was a road they’d have to cross, but it was narrow and rarely traveled. Once to it, however, Finny saw a car coming. She moved Sky back and waited for the car to pass.

  To her horror, she saw the driver was Elsa, a girl she knew from Silver Spur. Elsa could always find something mean to say under the best of circumstances. With nowhere to hide, Finny braced herself and hoped Elsa would have more interesting things to do than to torment her.

  The fancy red convertible, Elsa’s sweet-sixteen birthday present, squealed to a stop. Elsa’s jaw literally dropped. Her life, Finny realized, must bore her to tears.

  Elsa didn’t say a word. She just slowly shook her head and motioned to her friends in the car to look. Elsa’s passengers, Clara and Shasa, who also rode at Silver Spur, began to laugh. Then Elsa did, and her laughter continued to grow until she clutched her midsection. Sky decided Elsa’s car was so interesting he wouldn’t move past it.

  “Finny, seriously, that mangy bag of bones is the horse you’ve been telling everyone about? Your dream horse? God, way to dream big, Finny. It’s so pathetic I don’t have the heart to insult you.”

  “You’re right, you are totally heartless, Elsa. I couldn’t agree more.” Finny gave Sky a firm tug and much to her relief he began to follow her across the road and away from the laughter.

  “You think you can insult me, trailer trash?” Elsa shouted.

  Finny ignored her and kept walking.

  “I’m going to tell Jeff right now that if your diseased bag of bones steps on the property, putting my horses at risk, I’m moving them all immediately.”

  Finny didn’t react—she just kept walking, not wanting to let Elsa know she was getting to her. Jeff Hastings, her boss and Elsa’s trainer, would never jeopardize his relationship with his high-profile client with four show horses to stand up for a lowly working student.

  The little sports car raced off, spitting dust and gravel as it went. Finny knew without a doubt that the gates at Silver Spur would be locked by the time she arrived.

  Up ahead on the trail, Finny spotted a small scrub oak that had blown down. She used it to sit and rest, then let some slack out on the lead so Sky could graze. Finny dropped her chin in her hand. She didn’t know what to do with a hungry, tired giant of a horse and nowhere to put him. On top of that, it would be getting dark soon.

  Calling home wasn’t an option—never in a million years. Finny wished she knew why her mom was so against anything horse. Just this morning she had grumbled, “Finny, can’t you find something to do that doesn’t ruin your clothes and keep you from making friends?”

  Frustrated, Finny wiped at the tears dampening her cheeks. She wondered why someone like Elsa, who had everything a teenage girl could want, chose to be so mean.

  Trailer trash, Finny thought, I don’t even live in a trailer anymore. . . . Finny jumped up and pulled on Sky’s lead, urging him to follow her. She had an idea. Changing course, she headed to the end of town, to her old home.

  The screaming had started two days after Finny’s eighth birthday. She was playing with her new Breyer horse when the fight began. She cantered her plastic horse across the carpet and closed her bedroom door. This was just another fight, or so she thought. Fifteen minutes later the front door slammed and her dad, whom Finny worshiped, walked out of her life.

  With a shake of her head Finny forced out old memories and continued to plan. The sun had passed the horizon but left plenty of light. She slowed her pace, wanting it to be dark when she walked Sky into the trailer park. Sky, she noticed, was walking slower and slower, sometimes even staggering. It wasn’t hard to burn daylight.

  Finny patted Sky’s neck and felt the sheen of sweat coating his body. The long walk was taking a toll on him.

  It was sufficiently dark when they arrived at the trailer park. Finny heaved a sigh of relief when she found the trailer her mom had been trying to rent, empty. She brought Sky around back, opened a chain link fence made to keep in dogs, and led him through. After a quick inspection of the fence she was confident enough to let Sky off the lead. She hoped the grass in the yard would be enough to keep him busy overnight. Finny found an old trash can, cleaned it, and
filled it with water. Sky came over and sniffed the can, then took a long drink. She hated leaving him in a strange place, but she had to get home and he seemed to be content. Finny gave Sky a pat and set off.

  * * *

  The porch was dark when Finny climbed the stairs and tiptoed into the house. Down the hall she heard the TV. She peeked into the living room and found her mom, Beth, and stepdad, Steven, cuddling on the couch. They were engrossed in a movie with the twins snuggled in between them. They looked good together, like the happy family they were. She thought about her dad. He, too, was remarried with a four-year-old son and two-year-old daughter. His new wife liked the four of them to dress alike. Not identical clothes but in the same colors and styles. It was enough to make them look like they belonged to each other, which they did.

  Careful not to disturb anyone, Finny climbed the stairs and went into her bathroom. She flipped on the light and looked in the mirror. Big green eyes on a heartshaped face framed by amber-colored hair stared back. Finny grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed her face. A moment later she had a dirt-covered washcloth in her hand and a clean shiny face in the mirror. She studied her reflection looking for the pretty her mom said was there. Finny knew she wasn’t Elsa-pretty with a perfect nose and bright blue eyes, but not many girls were.

  After tossing the washcloth aside, Finny picked up one of her unopened bottles of makeup. She didn’t know what to do with it, and didn’t really much care, either.

  Her mom’s repeated pleas ran through her head: “If I bought you makeup would you use it? You’ve got the high school dance in the fall and all sorts of social events coming up. If you want a boy to ask you to a dance, wash the dirt off and put makeup on.”

  With a tired sigh, Finny put the bottle down and looked again in the mirror. Never once did Elsa go out without flawless makeup or perfect hair. She wondered if it was normal, at her age, not to care about makeup and dances. Maybe in time, when she had a healthy horse to ride and was happy, then she’d care.