Belle's Challenge

  Belle’s Challenge

  ISBN: 9781932926941 (ebook version)

  Copyright © 2012 by Connie Gotsch

  Illustrations Copyright © 2012 John Cogan

  Activity Book Copyright © 2012 by Margaret Cheasebro

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photo-copying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without written permission of the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  Kinkajou Press is an imprint of Artemesia Publishing.

  Kinkajou Press

  9 Mockingbird Hill Rd

  Tijeras, New Mexico 87059

  info@kinkajoupress.com

  www.kinkajoupress.com

  Attention school counselors, teachers, home schoolers and parents: Download a FREE copy of the Belle’s Challenge Activity Book from our website. This useful tool is ideal for small group counseling and classroom guidance activities. In addition, the learning activities provide wonderful opportunities for families to work together on a joint project that promotes stronger family ties and benefits the community.

  http://www.apbooks.net/bchallenge.html

  Belle’s Challenge

  By

  Connie Gotsch

  Illustrated By

  John Cogan

  Kinkajou Press

  Albuquerque, New Mexico

  www.kinkajoupress.com

  Awards and Praise for Belle’s Star

  First Place 2010 Juvenile Fiction National Federation of Press Women Communication Contest

  First Place 2010 New Mexico Press Women’s Communication Contest

  2009 & 2010 New Mexico Book Award Finalist (Juvenile Book grade school to junior high)

  Winner Silver Recipient: 2010 Mom’s Choice Award® for Juvenile Level 2 Books (Ages 9 to 12)

  “I highly recommend this book for all children who love animals and especially for children who have suffered abuse, bullying or other difficult situations in their homes and who need to learn to trust.”

  ~ Nancy Marano, editor, PETroglyphs (www.petroglyphsnm.org)

  Awards for Belle’s Trial

  First Place 2011, Children’s Fiction Category, New Mexico Press Women’s Communication Contest

  2011 New Mexico Book Award Finalist (Juvenile Book grade school to junior high)

  Winner Silver Recipient: 2011 Mom’s Choice Award® for Juvenile Level 2 Books (Ages 9 to 12)

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Connie Gotsch, who completed final edits on the manuscript the day she died. Her love for dogs spills out in every book in the Belle series. At her request, one dollar from the sale of each Belle book is donated to a new animal shelter in Farmington, NM, where she lived. Her passion for the arts lives on in the Connie Gotsch Arts Foundation.

  A special thank you to Margaret Cheasebro who helped Connie with the final edits of this book, and who was instrumental in reviewing the manuscript after Connie’s death. This book, a wonderful tribute to Connie, would not have been possible without the dedication and support of Margaret.

  ~ Geoff Habiger, editor - Artemesia Publishing

  Preface

  As I wrote this preface to Belle’s Challenge, one of my three dogs kept nudging my hand at the keyboard, but he had a hard time getting my attention. That’s because I was so wrapped up in the story woven by Connie Gotsch, who would have chuckled at the competition between dog and keyboard.

  Connie had many loves – her work at public radio station KSJE, her writing, the arts, her friends and fellow writers, and dogs, especially her own rescue dogs, Kiri and Ben. In the Belle trilogy, we feel that love in her often humorous presentation of our canine friends. If you’ve ever wondered what dogs are thinking, it seems at times that Connie does get into their furry heads, and they sound distinctly like Connie herself. She doesn’t miss an opportunity to show us their side of things.

  We also see a great love of young people. It’s clear that Connie never forgot what it was like to be a pre-teen. In her books, Connie explores the issues of today’s young people and does it gently and perceptively. We see in Darcy Connie’s own determination and sense of justice.

  The series began with Belle’s Star, when abusive owners throw a frightened puppy from their truck at a convenience store, and 12-year-old Darcy and her Auntie Ellen rescue her. The spirited Belle isn’t the ideal pet for a while but must learn trust and discipline. In the process Belle offers powerful lessons about abuse and bullying and the potential to survive and thrive.

  Connie’s penchant for word play shines through the books. This is a peek at the wizard behind the curtain. In spoken and written word, Connie was a conduit for language. That doesn’t mean it was easy. Connie was legally blind, and, while it may have slowed her down a bit, it didn’t keep her from doing what she wanted to do – everything from travel and photography, to advanced degrees to her radio work and her books. Besides the Belle series, she wrote A Mouth Full of Shell and Snap Me a Future.

  From her birth on January 3, 1948, to age 16, Connie and her family lived in Oak Park, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago, until the family moved to Princeton, New Jersey. This probably inspired the cross-country move for Darcy in this book. Connie knew well what it was like to be the new kid.

  She earned her bachelor’s degree in fine arts and master’s degree in radio, TV and film at New York University and her doctorate in communication and education from Northern Illinois University. She taught and worked in broadcasting in the East and Midwest before moving to New Mexico. For 22 years, she was director of programming at KSJE public radio in Farmington.

  In 2007 New Mexico Press Women named Connie the Communicator of Achievement, the organization’s highest honor, based on professional achievement, community service and service provided to the state affiliate.

  With the publication of Belle’s Challenge, the series comes to an end. Cancer took Connie Gotsch from us on July 15, 2012. She was 64. A professional to the end, Connie completed the final editing of the book hours before her passing, with her longtime friend and collaborator, Margaret Cheasebro.

  We miss Connie, but she left a great deal of herself behind – especially in Darcy and the spunky Belle.

  Sherry Robinson, September, 2012

  Chapter 1

  Just No Fun

  Retching, I spat the last of breakfast into the tissue Darcy held to my mouth. My mouth felt like I’d been eating sand, and my throat burned. Would this torture never end?

  Darcy wiped my mouth and stroked my head, sadness darkening her blue eyes. “Poor little dog. I’m surprised there’s anything left in your tummy. Being car sick isn’t fun, is it?”

  No, it isn’t. I tapped my stubby tail on the seat to show how much I agreed with her.

  She caressed my neck, sending golden hair flying onto her cheeks. “Poof. Your fur tickles, you little fox face, you.”

  Bending she whispered in my pointed ear, “I’ll tell you something else that isn’t fun, Belle. Moving across country. I’m going to miss Auntie Ellen.”

  I pushed my black muzzle against her arm and s
niffed, detecting dead leaves, the aroma of sadness instead of her usual happy lily of the valley scent.

  “But,” she continued, “I don’t think I’ll miss Uncle Jim. We can think of leaving him as a good thing about moving to New Mexico.”

  Yes, we can. I nuzzled her face. (Uncle Jim despised animals and put Auntie Ellen’s dog, Painter, and her cat, Misty, outside with a ‘git.’ He kicked my butt more than once when I didn’t jump out of his way.)

  But Auntie Ellen loved me and Darcy’s other dog, Buster. I already missed her as much as Darcy did.

  In the front seat, Darcy’s father, Bob, flexed his large hands on the steering wheel. “A lot of nothing out here, that’s for sure.” The scent of dust mixed into his normal odor of shaving cream and ink jet printers.

  Darcy’s mother, Margaret, switched on the radio. Static grated my ear drums.

  Buster stuck his head out the window. Lucky he could do that without getting sick. If I stood up, I’d barf again.

  Margaret turned off the radio. “I think we have a big adjustment ahead. We’re not in Illinois anymore.”

  I sniffed her to gauge her mood. Usually she smelled of lily of the valley like Darcy. Today Margaret was wilted lily of the valley.

  Lifting my head from Darcy’s lap, I looked out the window at land that seemed to fill the world with grass and pebbles. Rocks jutted into a sky empty except for the sun. I thought its heat would fry me. No wonder Margaret had wilted.

  Panting and drooling, I glanced at Buster. How was he managing with his black coat?

  He stood enjoying the wind, his Irish setter fringe fluttering on his legs and tail. He’d gotten that fringe from his mother.

  “Rabid skunks,” I said to him on the dog channel. Only canines could hear it. “How much longer is this trip?”

  Except to draw his head back through the window, he didn’t move the solid Labrador Retriever body his father had given him. “Bob told Margaret we’ll get to our new den today.”

  A shiver ran from my nose to my tail. “Thank dog heaven there’s nothing left in my stomach.”

  “Think about something nice to forget your belly.”

  “Okay. I hope I can do dog agility wherever we end up.” I put my head back on Darcy’s lap.

  “I’m sure you can. Stop worrying,” he replied and stuck his head out again.

  “We herding dogs need jobs, otherwise we get in trouble.” I sighed and closed my eyes.

  I didn’t need to remind him. I’d grown up wild in a barn with no discipline. Darcy and Auntie Ellen rescued me from that life, and offered me a chance to be a pet, though I had no idea how to be one. During the last cool time when the leaves turned gold, I’d dug out of Darcy’s yard, knocked over waste baskets, and lured Buster into the creek by Auntie Ellen’s house, getting his long hair filthy. Together, we knocked over the grill grate, spewing ash across the lawn.

  Margaret and Bob wanted to give me to a farmer, so I could have a job herding cattle and stay busy, but Darcy begged to enroll me in 4-H dog agility to teach me discipline. Because she, Buster and I loved each other, and I had gotten top marks in basic obedience school, her parents granted her request.

  During the cold time and the flowering time, Darcy and I worked together. I performed so well jumping fences and running on dog walks that her parents let me stay with them.

  Now I must use the discipline I learned in agility by learning to fit into a new place. I wondered how hard that would be.

  The car lurched. Bracing my feet against Darcy’s leg, I forced my thoughts to find something else nice to focus on. How about Misty, and Painter?

  With her fluffy coat, Misty resembled a white lion. Sadness made my eyes burn. I shook myself. Why was I even thinking about her? Who’d play with a stupid cat that grabbed my favorite ball and raced around agility weave poles with it? Bones, I would. I had. Trying to snatch the ball back, I’d learned how weave poles worked. I’ll think of you, Misty, if I ever do agility again. I’ll miss both you and Painter.

  Orange, blue, brown, and black splotches speckled Painter’s smooth white body. He smelled earthy, like the terrier he was. An image of Auntie Ellen’s yard popped into my mind. Bright bobbing flowers, paw-tickling grass sloping to a creek. Painter and I often raced on its banks while Buster wallowed midstream catching branches and turtles.

  Pressing closer to Darcy, I whimpered. Buster turned and nuzzled me. Thank dog heaven he was here.

  Darcy rested one hand on my neck and held a folded paper with the other. “Here’s Appleton.” She tapped the page. “According to the map, it’s in the Four Corners where Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico and Utah touch.”

  Was our new town called Appleton? Fine, as long as I could get out of this flea-bitten car soon.

  The vinegary odor of worry mixed with the dry leaf smell on Darcy as she folded the map and stuck it into a pocket in the car door. “It’s going to be weird walking into a strange school.”

  Margaret reached across the seat and took her free hand. “I’ll feel the same way walking into a strange job, when I find one.”

  “I hope my new school has a soccer team and a chorus,” Darcy sighed.

  I licked her hand. All of us had things we hoped for in this new place—things that might or might not be. All of us but Bob, that is. He knew he’d be installing computers, and he loved that as much as I loved liver flavored dog treats.

  Patting me, Darcy stared at the back of her father’s head. “Dad, why couldn’t you have waited until I went to college to change jobs? It’s so brown here, it’s like another planet. I wonder if Mars looks like New Mexico.”

  “According to what I’ve read, Mars may look very much like New Mexico,” Bob answered turning to her, a grin lighting his broad face. Mischief crackled in his brown eyes before he faced the windshield again.

  Margaret squeezed Darcy’s fingers. Someday, Darcy would be tall and strong like her, but with Auntie Ellen’s small nose, mouth, fair skin, and heart-shaped face, instead of Margaret’s prominent features.

  Margaret let Darcy go. “There’s a town in New Mexico called Roswell with little green aliens on its lamp posts,” said Margaret. Amusement flickered in her brown eyes. “Maybe they’re Martians and you can ask them what Mars looks like.”

  Darcy put her chin onto her palm. “Meeting a Martian might actually be cool,” she said and smiled. “The desert is pretty in a way.” She rubbed my shoulder. “Oh well, at least I’ll have you, Belle.”

  I leaned against her, letting her sun colored tresses tickle my face. Yes, I’ll be here for you, no matter what.

  The car slowed, and Bob pointed through the windshield. “There’s Appleton,” he said, and pushed damp brown hair back on his head. “We’ll be home in two clicks of a computer tech’s mouse.”

  Darcy, Buster, and Margaret leaned forward. Easing to my feet, I put my chin against Margaret’s shoulder to steady myself, and stared at our new town.

  Either side of the highway, brown dens seemed to rise out of browner earth. Sunlight flashed off gray metal barns with trucks and tractors in front of them, and people clustered in front of little white food burrows with giant hamburgers on top.

  Gagging, I dropped back onto the seat beside Darcy.

  The air stank of left over French fries and the special water that made cars go.

  Darcy heaved a long sigh and smelled of dried leaves. Bending, she whispered in my ear, “Is this dump ugly or what?”

  Closing my eyes, I nuzzled her and braced my ears against the snarl of what Darcy called an 18-wheeler rumbling up behind us. Rabid skunks! If I heard one more of those, my hearing wouldn’t be worth fleas.

  But before the roar could deafen me, we slowed further, and turned. The truck’s thunder vanished. So did the stench of greasy food and water for cars.

  I caught my breath, smelling and hearing nothing for about a
s long as it takes to sniff and pick up a dog treat. Then, I smelled green leaves, grass and fresh water. Shadows cooled my face. Had we left the highway for a quiet street? Maybe one with houses on it? I longed to stand up and look, but my stomach swayed like a branch in the wind.

  Darcy sat up. “Trees! Lots of them. They have apples and peaches. Look at the pretty houses. Whew! I was scared for a minute. The edge of town looked like the moon.”

  Bob and Margaret laughed, and Buster thumped his tail against the back of Bob’s seat, as the car turned once more, and stopped.

  “Here we are,” said Bob. “Let’s look around. The moving van will be here any time.”

  With a turn onto the nice street, this trip was over. Thank you, dog heaven.

  Chapter 2

  A Warning

  Darcy undid her seat belt and stretched her arms. They reminded me of the limbs of the colts I’d seen on the farm where I was born.

  She flexed her hands and opened the door. Buster and I dived out of the car.

  The pavement scorched my paws. Holy fleas! I couldn’t get over one torment before I faced another.

  Spotting a tree in the middle of a gravel yard, I bolted into its shade, collapsed at the base of the trunk and gulped.

  A brand new smell enveloped me—some kind of plant with a clean sharp odor. Wonderful after the car!

  Margaret must have smelled it, too, because she sniffed as she lifted her big frame off the seat and stepped onto the drive. “Mmmmm…sage brush. The first thing I smelled when we came house hunting last month. I fell in love with the place”