The Long Ride Home by Marsha Hubler Page B

its first meal from its mother.”
    Skye turned and looked at busy Morgan, who was still strangely silent. “Morgan, what do you think of this great news?”
    “It’s great, Skye,” Morgan said as though she struggled to get it out. “Really great.”
    Okay, Skye told herself, this has gone on long enough. I’ve got to get to the bottom of this — and now. Parking her thoughts about her mother somewhere in the back of her brain, Skye concentrated on Morgan. Skye strolled to the sliding glass door and placed her hands on her hips. She drank in the beautiful scene before her: a red barn, six horses grazing in a pasture surrounded by a white fence, a crystal blue sky, and a gentle summer breeze. “Wow, will you look at this gorgeous day? Perfect for a ride.”
    “Sure is,” Mrs. Chambers agreed.
    “Morgan,” Skye said, “after supper why don’t we ride out to Piney Hollow? That is, if Mom doesn’t need us for anything around here.” She shifted her gaze to Mrs. Chambers.
    “The evening’s yours,” Mrs. Chambers said, scooping the casserole into a large serving dish. “Tom and I have big plans. We’re going to catch up on some reading and bill paying. Later he wants to watch a ball game on TV. How exciting is that for two old folks on a Saturday night?” Mrs. Chambers laughed.
    “Aw, Mom, you guys aren’t that ancient—but just about,” Skye kidded and then asked Morgan, “How about that ride, Sis?”
    “Sure.” Morgan giggled. “Blaze and I would love to double date with you and Champ.”
    “Well then it’s settled.” Mrs. Chambers placed the casserole in the center of the table. “After we clean up the dishes, you girls may go riding off into the sunset. Now, Skye, would you please go call the man of the house? Supper’s ready.”
    “Sure.” Skye headed toward the basement door.
    “And I’ll get the lemonade.” Morgan wheeled toward the refrigerator.
    “It’s a great day to go riding off into the sunset,” Skye said as she opened the basement door and headed down the stairs, “with my best bud and my favorite horse.”
    With a little more than two hours of perfect daylight left, Skye and Morgan rode their horses through the woods to Piney Hollow.
    Riding side by side on the dirt road, the girls talked about everything and anything, about boys, about their trip south, about the upcoming school year, and then about their families. Skye figured the timing was perfect to ask Morgan about her feelings and what seemed to be bugging her.
    “Morgan, I’ve noticed that you’re always wound up in a tight little ball whenever I talk about my real family,” Skye said. “I thought we had that all settled. I told you I’m not leaving my home here. As far as I’m concerned, you are my sister with a capital ‘S’ and you always will be.”
    The usually bubbly Morgan said nothing. For several moments, only squeaking saddles, chirping birds, and a buzzing fly filled the silent void.
    “Morgan,” Skye pleaded, “this isn’t your style. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve been on top of things, encouraging me. You’ve always been like a light bulb in a pitch-black room to everyone who knows you. What gives?” She noticed tears rolling down Morgan’s cheeks.
    Morgan quickly brushed them away, almost as though she was embarrassed that anyone would ever see her cry.
    Skye didn’t quite know what to say next. Wow! Something’s really got her bugged. God, please help me with this one.
    “Is it something I’ve done—or said?” Skye asked. “Please tell—”
    “Skye, it’s nothing you’ve done,” Morgan said. “It’s me.”
    “What do you mean?” Skye asked as the girls rode into the Piney Hollow campsite. Again, Morgan was silent.
    For just a moment, Skye darted her glance from Morgan to the fantastic view that lay straight ahead, one of her favorite spots in the world.
    The girls rode to the outdoor chapel and stopped not far from the cross. Since Morgan had no way of