Forgetting How to Breathe Page 2

  The black-and-white horse, still off to the side, squealed and spun in a circle. The others tossed their heads and snorted. Tag fell back again, looking fearful. Abruptly, Scout barked and began darting back and forth behind the horses, letting out sharp yips.

  “Look at Scout!” Tia cried. “He knows what to do.” Trying again, she looped an arm over the mare’s neck and pushed her in the direction she wanted the horses to go.

  With Scout barking and darting behind them, the herd apparently decided moving wasn’t such a bad idea. Soon they were all heading back around the curve in the road, where, sure enough, there was an open gate. Tia put her hand against the mare’s neck to guide her, and the mare walked through without protest. The other horses followed, except for two who looked like they might try and make a break for it. Scout convinced them otherwise.

  “What if that’s not their place?” Tag asked as they closed the gate.

  Tia shrugged and peered into the surrounding woods. “There must be a farm around here somewhere. Let’s look.”

  “What about Winnipeg and Richard?”

  “We’re still going,” Tia said, frowning.

  “Or we could just stay here. What kind of a person lives in a hotel, even if they do own it?” Tag muttered.

  Tia didn’t answer. In truth, she didn’t know, but the way Mama talked about him, blue eyes flashing as she flung a swath of hair over her shoulder, made Richard seem like a pretty big deal.

  “I think he’s a good man at heart,” Mama had said, which struck Tia as odd. Did that mean a person could be good in their heart but not on the outside? Richard’s outside seemed okay to her. She wished with everything in her that she’d asked Mama what she meant, as that was one of the last things she’d said before she’d disappeared.

  At first, Tia hadn’t worried. Mama knew Tia was old enough to look after things. She’d told her so. And last fall, just before Mama started her new waitressing job, she’d promised Tia that even though sometimes she was away longer than she planned, maybe even overnight, she would always be back before they ran out of peanut butter.

  Mama had kept that promise, until this last time.

  Tia had made the peanut butter last as long as she could—that and anything else she could turn into a meal. But eventually, they’d turned to the school breakfast program. Tia knew there would be questions, but they’d had no choice. Then the stupid principal called Social Services. No one had listened when Tia insisted her mother would be back.

  Tia came up with her plan to go to Winnipeg right after Cathy had said no to keeping Scout. Just like that, it had become her mantra: First, they’d find Richard, and then, they’d find Mama.

  First Richard, then Mama, first Richard, then Mama.

  “Come on, we have to tell someone about the horses.” She jogged up the road as Tag and Scout kept pace beside her. The snow was falling heavier now, as if someone had taken a giant box of soap flakes and shaken it over their heads.

  As they rounded the bend past the cemetery, something crashed out from the bush in front of them.

  Startled, Tia grabbed hold of Tag and drew him close.

  “Hold on!” the something said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” As he pulled off a his red-and-green plaid jacket hood, Tia saw a curly grey beard first, then twinkling eyes and a red knit cap. The old man wore dirty yellow work gloves and carried what looked like a game of cat’s cradle, made of nylon rope instead of string. Scout ran over to him, wagging his tail.

  “Oh, hey there, fella! What’s your name?”

  Tag pulled away from Tia. “That’s Scout—”

  “Shush,” Tia said, taking Tag’s hand and speaking into his ear. “He’s a stranger.”

  “Scout likes him.”

  Tia squeezed Tag’s hand. “We weren’t scared. You just surprised us.”

  “I was scared,” Tag said.

  Tia squeezed his hand again.

  “Hey, ow!”

  The man’s brows smashed together. “Are you two okay? Are you lost? I haven’t seen you around.”

  “Not lost,” Tia said.

  Tag pulled his hand out of Tia’s. “We’re staying near here. I’m Tag.”

  “Tag!”

  The man smiled all the way to his eyes. “You can call me Grandpa Bebe,” he said. “Say, you haven’t seen some horses around here, have you?”

  “Maybe.” Tia hedged, then relented. “Yes. There was an open gate back around the corner. We put them in there.”

  “All by yourselves?”

  Tia nodded toward the dog. “Scout helped.” Her stranger-danger apprehension was melting away. The man looked like a friendly, slightly greyer cousin to jolly old St. Nick. Plus, she was pretty sure she and Tag could outrun him if they felt the need.

  “Your dog?” Grandpa Bebe asked, rubbing behind Scout’s ears.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Sounds like a story in there, but that place you put my horses isn’t my property. Let’s go get those silly buttheads.”

  “I thought they were horses,” Tag quipped.

  Grandpa Bebe grinned. “I love them to bits, but if there’s trouble to get into, they’ll find it!”

  They hurried along the lane, the man quick and sure of foot on the slippery roads. Around the corner, they spotted the herd. The horses hadn’t moved from where Tia and Tag had left them and watched quietly from behind the gate. Tia leaned over the fence as Grandpa Bebe opened the gate and pushed himself between the horses.

  The black-and-white horse nickered, tossing his head.

  “Hello, Garri, my old friend,” the man greeted the animal. “Were you waiting for me to find you?”

  As if to answer, the horse—Garri—neighed.

  The chocolate mare moved toward Tia, lifted her nose to Tia’s face, sniffed and blowed, as if exchanging breath.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Grandpa Bebe said. “I’ve never seen Disa do that.”

  Tia lifted her hand, hesitated, then with a feather touch, stroked the mare’s nose. “Hello, Disa,” she whispered.

  “Will you help me get them up the road?” he asked Tia.

  “We don’t know much about horses,” she said.

  “Actually, we don’t know anything about horses,” Tag said.

  The man laughed. “No matter. Disa is the boss mare. They’ll follow her. With your help—and Scout’s—we’ll have them home in no time.” He took the nylon halter he’d been carrying and slipped it over Disa’s head. “Will you take her?” he asked Tia.

  This was crazy. Was he actually handing her a rope to lead a real, live horse, as if she had an actual clue what to do with it? Instead of pinching herself, she bit her lip. She was definitely not dreaming. She gulped. “Where?”

  “Just around the bend.”

  The mare’s eyes were deep brown, and she looked, unblinking, at Tia. Something sparked deep in her chest, a feeling, as clear as if spoken out loud: trust. She felt something warm wash through her. “Okay,” she said, taking the rope.

  “Great! Hold the extra rope folded like this.” He flattened the loops and placed them in her hand. “Never let it get wrapped around your hand in case the horse gets frightened and bolts. Better to let her get away than for you to get dragged.”

  “Will that happen?” Tia asked, a twinge of fear in her belly.

  The man winked. “Not likely. Disa is as steady as they come. You go ahead. This young man and I will bring up the rear.”

  Carefully taking the lead rope, Tia whispered to the mare. “I won’t hurt you, girl. You don’t hurt me either, okay?” The horse’s slow blink calmed her. She turned and started back up the road, calling over her shoulder. “How far?”

  “I’ll let you know when to turn!” Grandpa Bebe called after her. She watched him lean toward Tag, exchange a few words she couldn’t hear. “Thanks, T
ia!” he called.

  She scowled at Tag, who grinned and shrugged. Helping out was one thing, but he shouldn’t have told her name. That was hers to give, and she would rather have kept that to herself. Tag had never been as good as Tia at keeping quiet.

  Oh well. What was that saying? Once the cat was out of the bag, you couldn’t put it back, or something like that.

  Tia was lulled by the rhythm of walking and falling snow. The day had taken a turn that felt magical. As Disa followed her lead, she imagined herself in another life, a cowgirl on a ranch. Maybe rich Uncle Richard also had a place in the country with horses. Maybe once Tia and Tag found him, and then Mama, they could all live there together.

  Tia was so lost in her daydream that she almost missed the wooden signpost to her right. Hanging from the post was a sign that read “Ice Pony Ranch and Animal Rescue Centre.”

  “Turn here,” Grandpa Bebe said.

  You’ve got to be kidding me, Tia thought as she turned Disa up the path. This was the place Cathy had wanted her to bring Scout. And here they were. It felt like the heavy hand of doom. Or fate. Or Cathy. All the same thing.

  No. They’d bring in the horses and be on their way.

  Glancing behind, she saw the man stepping spryly beside the small herd, waving his arms and causing the horses to turn. The black-and-white horse gave a small back kick, as if in protest, but still moved to where Grandpa Bebe wanted him to go.

  Poplar, pine and birch trees crowded even closer to the road now. As Tia rounded the bend, the trees fell behind her, and she was suddenly in the wide-open space that was Ice Pony Ranch.

  Chapter Three

  The feeling that welled up inside of Tia at the sight of Ice Pony Ranch was like longing and joy and comfort all mixed up together. It was like stepping into a painting, one where you knew that at any second, someone might come down the lane or a stag might leap from the brush and bound across the meadow. Perfection existed in that moment just before, when anything could happen.

  A long driveway divided two sides of a wide meadow surrounded by a white painted fence. There were additional paddocks within the meadow, each one with small wooden shelters and hay bins. At the end of the drive, there were three buildings: a sky-blue bungalow to one side, a red barn to the other, and, in the middle, a T-shaped building in a darker shade of blue with a sign that said, “Shelter.”

  As Tia led the small herd up the drive, Grandpa Bebe moved ahead of her and opened a big, wooden gate. He took Disa from her and led the mare inside. The other horses followed, shaking their heads, whickering, and snorting.

  “Thanks for your help,” Grandpa Bebe said, closing the gate behind him.

  Tag looked at the T-shaped building. “Tia, isn’t this where Cathy told you to bring Scout?”

  “Cathy?” Grandpa Bebe asked.

  “She’s our foster mom.”

  “Tag!”

  “What?”

  She turned back to Grandpa Bebe. “Sorry if my brother talked your ear off.”

  “Not at all. I’ve known Cathy and Bob for years. They’re good people.”

  Tia and Tag climbed on the slats of the wooden fence to watch. As Grandpa Bebe moved amongst the horses, stroking them, talking to them, Tia whispered to Tag. “Tag, he’s a stranger. You shouldn’t be telling him stuff.”

  “But he’s nice,” Tag whispered back. “And we know his name. And he knows Cathy and Bob.”

  Tia tried, and failed, to hold back a grin. “You have no idea how lucky you are to have me looking after you.”

  “I know,” Tag said, looking serious.

  Grandpa walked and rubbed the horse’s necks and ears. “Gelmir, how are you today, my old friend?” He stopped at a grey horse. “Björn, how’s your leg today, buddy?” He tapped behind Björn’s hoof. The horse lifted his foot, and Grandpa Bebe caught hold and examined his leg.

  “Those are weird names,” Tag said.

  “They’re Icelandic,” Grandpa Bebe explained. “And these are Icelandic Horses—a very old breed from a land far from here.” His eyes took on a faraway look, as if he was actually seeing it. “They’re very special.”

  “I think all horses are special,” Tia said.

  “You like horses?” Grandpa Bebe asked.

  Tia shrugged. “I like all animals.”

  “She’s crazy about them,” Tag said.

  “Well, in that case, you’ll like the shelter. Want to come in and warm up? They love visitors.”

  “Can we?” Tag asked. “I’m cold.”

  She glanced at Scout, who wagged his tail. He knows Cathy and Bob, the dog seemed to be reassuring her. She looked back at her brother, his pleading, hopeful look melting her.

  “I guess, Tia said.” But just for a minute.”

  Grandpa Bebe led them past the barn to the middle building. Up close, Tia saw a narrow front deck that ran the whole length of the structure. The building was joined to the barn through a covered walkway. Beside the door, there was a half rain barrel with straw sticking out of it. A goat was nibbling from it, but scooted away as they approached. A moment later, it stuck its head back around the corner of the building and bleated at them.

  “Relax, Horatio!” He cooed, then turned back to Tia and Tag. “He’s a little shy with new folks.” He pulled open the front door. “Come on in!”

  Inside, there was a small space that looked like an office with a small desk and a computer. Along the back wall, there was a counter with a giant cage on top. The cage was empty, the door left open. The tangy smell of pine cleaner was strong but not unpleasant.

  Dogs from somewhere in the building must have heard them, because one barked, followed by another. Soon there was a whole chorus of barking dogs. To Tia, it sounded like music. She’d always wanted a pet of her own, especially a dog. Mama had said it wasn’t possible, that moving so often wouldn’t be fair to an animal. When Scout had turned up on the Magnussons’ doorstep, he was like a gift from the universe. But nothing ever turned out the way Tia hoped.

  As if on cue, the barking died away to a few yips, then nothing. “What lives in there?” Tia asked, pointing to the cage.

  “That would be Raphael, our resident raven,” Grandpa Bebe explained. “But he’s out with Jennifer right now.”

  “Jennifer?”

  “My daughter. She’s the owner of this ranch. I only work here,” he said, winking. “Which would you like to see first, cats or dogs?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Dogs it is then! Better have your dog wait in the office for now. No point in getting the others all excited.”

  He led them through a red door at the back of the office which opened to a small room with a washtub against one wall and a hand-held sprayer hooked on the wall just above.

  “Everyone gets a bath—first, when they get here, then once a week, more often if they need it,” Grandpa Bebe said. “Even the cats.”

  There were three additional doors leading from the washing room: one at the back, with a brown, bristly looking doormat in front of it—Tia guessed that led outdoors—one to the left, and one to the right. Those doors were helpfully labeled, one with the word DOGS and the other with the word CATS.

  The dogs must have heard Grandpa Bebe’s voice, because the excited yipping started up again. The old man grinned and opened the door, motioning for Tia go ahead of him.

  Inside was a large space. Caged dog runs holding dogs of all shapes and sizes lined one wall. Each run had a soft-looking blanket and bed inside and a small latched door at the back. Tia counted seven dogs in all. Most looked like some sort of shepherd or husky mix, but there were two smaller dogs, one of them not even the size of a loaf of bread. Tia recognized it as a Chihuahua.

  “There are outdoor runs for each of them,” Grandpa Bebe said. “Plus, we take them out for walks and playtime when we can.”r />
  Tia stopped by the Chihuahua. It was shaking and cowering in the back corner of its cage.

  “We’re pretty sure that fella has been abused,” Grandpa Bebe told her. “He’s been here for a week, but he won’t let anyone near him.”

  “Can I try?” Tia asked.

  Grandpa Bebe pooched out his lips. “Well …” He looked again at the Chihuahua. Finally, he nodded. “I don’t see why not. He’s not an aggressive dog, but if he gets snappy, respect his space.”

  Tia opened the door and sat down just inside the dog run. As Grandpa Bebe and Tag moved off to look at the other orphaned animals, Tia spoke softly to the small dog. She imagined a blanket of calm coming down over them. It was insulating, and soon the sounds of Tag, Grandpa Bebe, and the other dogs fell away. She willed him to trust her, to feel her care. Seconds ticked. Nearly a minute, maybe longer. Finally, as if suddenly offering up a telepathic “okay,” the Chihuahua took tentative steps toward her.

  When Grandpa Bebe and Tag returned, the Chihuahua was sitting on Tia’s lap, quivering and licking her chin. She giggled and softly stroked his back.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Grandpa Bebe said. “You have a gift, young lady.”

  Reluctantly, Tia gave the little dog a final pet. She could see hope shining from his eyes. It reminded her of how Tag looked at her as he played with the Magnussons’ twin daughters. She turned quickly to Grandpa Bebe. “Where next?”

  “Want to see the cats?”

  “Of course!”

  Grandpa Bebe led them back through to the washing room and into the cat shelter. It was like something out of a movie. There were wire box kennels stacked against one wall, and in the center of the room, there was a wide-open area with a miniature indoor tree house of sorts. Much of it was covered in carpet, and there were cats of all sizes and colours climbing all over it.

  “We get a lot of cats,” Grandpa Bebe explained. “Some of them are here for a long time. We just want to make it nice for them.”

  “No one wants them?” Tag asked.

  Tia curled her fingertips into her palm, stifling an urge to smooth the creases in her brother’s forehead. She wanted to hug him, remind him he wasn’t a cat. She wanted him. Until Mama got back, it was her job to make sure he felt safe and loved.