The Winning Summer (12 page)

BOOK: The Winning Summer

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“Whew,” Skye said, “that’s thrush all right.”

Morgan set her soap and cloth on the saddle seat. “I’ll get the bottle of hydrogen peroxide.” She motored into the barn.

“In the meantime,” Skye said to Chad as she walked back to her own horse, “get some water and scrub that out real good.”

“Ten-four, Miss Ranch Boss! We’ll have Bucky fixed in no time.” Chad retrieved the hose, a scrub brush, and Skye’s bucket.

Standing several feet back from Champ, Skye kept an eye on Chad while she stared at the sorrel’s sparkling coat. The horse’s blaze and four socks looked like they had just been painted a glistening white. His long, silky mane and tail blew gently in the soft summer breeze.

“You are one beautiful hunk!” Skye said.

“Thanks!” Chad turned back and winked.

In vain, Skye looked for the closest groundhog hole to crawl into. The summer sun, beating mercilessly, was a far second place to the heat radiating from her face once again. In one quick action, she grabbed a lead rope from a hook on the barn, snapped it onto her horse’s halter, and turned Champ in the direction of the paddock gate. “C’mon, boy! How about some lunch in the pasture?”

Squirt!
A shot of ice-cold hose water struck Skye’s back.

“Hey!” Skye jerked Champ to a stop and spun toward Chad.

Conveniently busy with Bucky’s hoof, Chad glanced up, the familiar devilish grin lighting up his face. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he joked.

“Very funny.” Skye led Champ to the gate, swung it open, and released her horse into the pasture. She tiptoed back to Chad and stood over his bent frame.

Splash!
Skye emptied the bucket of soapy water all over Chad’s back and took off.

“Yikes!” he yelled.

A safe distance away, Skye stopped, pointed at Chad, and doubled over in laughter. There he stood, drenched and dripping, his Stetson the only dry spot on him.

“What’s the matter?” Skye teased. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Why, you little brat!” Chad grabbed the hose, chasing Skye and soaking her relentlessly with long jets of icy water.

“Please! Don’t!” Skye yelled. “I’m getting—”

“Cloud, my girlfriend! I’ll help you!” a voice shrieked from the back door of the house.

Down through the yard barreled a roly-poly sixteen-year-old boy dressed in a full cowboy suit with ten-gallon hat, boots, and two toy pistols in holsters. “I’ll save you, my lovely queen!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Oh, no!” Skye yelled. Stopping dead in her tracks, she stood while Chad’s hose continued to soak her from head to toe. “Joey, not now!”

ISBN 0-310-70798-4