Chapter 31

 

I thought I must be nuts but logic told me it was time for another trip to the ranch. It wasn’t the going that made it crazy. After all, my family lived there. It was just a friendly visit. But it wasn’t quite just a friendly visit. For one thing I had an ornery horse who needed socializing, and noise conditioning. Apache would get plenty of that at the ranch. Cars and trucks coming and going. People around all the time. Dogs wandering the property.

Another reason I wanted to go to the ranch was because I knew Bailee would think she had stepped right into a storybook. Yes, I was determined Bailee would get to go. She could play with Patrick and Wyatt. Patrick would talk her ear off and Bailee would get plenty of chances to communicate. She could ride almost any horse she wanted to with supervision. There were real cowboys and real ranch business and a big boisterous group of people to interact with. I just knew this was the right thing to do. So I had Rusty watch for a small block of time that he could take off and, when it neared, I asked Farley for Bailee’s phone number.

“Um, yeah, hello?” Bailee’s mom said in a distracted manner.

“Mrs. Roland? This is Cassidy Michaels…”

“I don’t want none.” Now I knew where Bailee’s bad grammar might be coming from.

“Mrs. Roland, I’m Bailee’s riding teacher at Farley McGyver’s school. I was calling to see if you would consider allowing Bailee to go on a little trip with me.”

“Bailee? You want to take Bailee on a trip? You know that girl can’t even talk?”

“I know she can talk and I know she can ride. The place I would like to take her to is the quarter horse ranch where I grew up. She would be supervised every minute and she would get to ride new horses. There are other kids there who would play with her. I think she would really enjoy it.”

“Huh. Never known that girl to enjoy something. She’s always so quiet. Spends most of her time with her nose in a book. What makes you think she wants to go to a ranch?”

“Mrs. Roland, it’s just like the places she reads about in her books. She’ll love it.”

“Well, you’re welcome to take her. How long will she be gone?”

“Four days. If it’s easier she can just come home with me after her Thursday lesson. She can spend the night at my house and we can take off early the next morning.”

“Hallelujah, I’m gonna take Brandon to my parent’s house and go live at the day spa!”

I hung up, discouraged even though I had Mrs. Roland’s permission to take Bailee along.

“I suppose it’s illegal to shoot lousy parents,” I said.

“I suppose you’re right but believe me, I’ve been tempted over the years. Did she let Bailee go?”

“Yeah, unfortunately she was a little too eager to let her go. She’s letting Bailee travel to another town with someone she doesn’t even know! She didn’t ask what Bailee needed. She wasn’t worried about Bailee missing school. Can’t we just accidentally adopt her while we’ve got her?”

“I’m afraid things like that are easier said than done.”

“I know.”

“You really wish you could do that?”

“Well, I know why she lives in a fantasy world of books now. I wish her mom could see Bailee as a real person with real emotions and real dreams. She doesn’t see it though and Bailee won’t open up to her so her mom never sees what a bright kid she is.”

“I’ve heard all this before, with Patrick. Now look at him. Patrick is doing great.”

 

Next was my dad. Usually I called Mom about these things but I needed a few things like a corral, permission to bring another horse, and the use of some equipment. Like usual Martha answered the phone with, “Gordon’s Quarter Horses, this is Martha speaking.”

“Hi Martha, it’s …”

“Cassidy!… Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was thinking of coming up there for a short visit. Before you turn me over to Dad I wanted to tell you there will be three of us for four days. Is that all right?”

“Three of you? Who are you bringing along?”

“A little girl I’ve been teaching. She loves horses and wants to learn how to do barrel racing. She loves horse books so I thought she might like to live a horse book for a long weekend.”

“That sounds wonderful. Your mother will love having a little girl in the house again.”

“Wait, Mom can’t buy anything for this girl. Bailee can’t come home with a bunch of new clothes and toys. No way. You’ve got to stop Mom. Bailee can’t be doted on. She just needs to be welcomed and made to feel like she belongs there, that’s all. I mean it, Martha. Can you talk to Mom?”

“But, why? You know how your mom loves to dote on kids. It doesn’t matter to her that this girl is a student of yours.”

“Bailee just wants a dose of ranch life. If she gets inundated with gifts it’s going to make it awfully hard to face reality when she gets back. She’ll have all these things reminding her of what life could be like. And when it doesn’t match up with the life she is stuck in it’ll rebound on her.”

“A few trinkets is not going to spoil a girl who is used to nothing.”

“Okay, just make mom wait until we get there before she does anything. Please? Can I talk to Dad? I have another guest but I need to talk to Dad about him.”

“Him?”

“It’s a horse.”

And so ensued a long discussion on horse training and it was all stuff I knew from just being around the ranch for years but he finally relented. Relenting was Dad’s way of saying yes.

“And Dad, please don’t be too particular about how Bailee addresses you. I’ll tell her what to call you but if it doesn’t sound like Mister Gordon to you, just accept it. The guy who runs the school is Farley McGyver and Bailee calls him Mizzur Mac. She isn’t being disrespectful or making fun of him. That’s as much of his name as she could say for the longest time. She calls me Chas, although she can say Cassidy now. When I met her the closest she could come was Chas and it stuck.”

“She’s your student. She should call you Missus Michaels.”

“It’s not that kind of a school and I prefer Chas.”

 

Tuesday when Bailee came for her lesson I should have thought about my words before I said anything. At first she was disappointed.

“Bailee, I have to go on a trip.”

“How long?”

“Four days.”

She could count. She knew four days meant I’d be gone Thursday. Her face fell.

“Bailee, wait, I wanted to know if you would go with me. I’m going to a place you might like to see. Would you like to visit a ranch? A real ranch?”

“Me? Go with you?”

“Yeah! My parents live on a ranch. They raise quarter horses. There are horses of all ages. You can meet my horse. His name is Shasta.”

“What color Shasta?”

“He’s gray. You’ll know him. He’s the only gray horse at the ranch.”

“My mom never say yes.”

“I already talked to your mom. You can go if you want.”

She gasped, “My mom say yes?”

Way too quickly, I remembered.

“Yes, when you come for your lesson on Thursday bring four days worth of clothes. You’ll need jeans, clothes like you wear here for your lessons.”

The whole lesson was filled with questions.

“You mom, dad live ranch?”

“Yes, I grew up there. That’s how I know about barrel racing and riding.”

“I ride, too?”

“Of course!”

“What horse I ride?”

“You can ride Shasta.”

She pulled up, stopping Socks.

“But Shasta your horse.”

“I’ll share my horse with you.” I share him with the whole ranch, I thought, but she didn’t see it that way.

“I sorry Chas. I selfish. You ride Shocks.”

“Thank you, Bailee, but you’re training him just fine. He’s doing better on the barrels. He’s learning just like you.”

“I do barl racing with Shasta?”

“Sure.”

“He fast?”

“There are many faster horses. But he’ll give you a good run.”

“Who fastest?”

“The fastest horse? You can’t ride him. His name is Frank’s Choice. He’s still in training but he’s the fastest horse.”

“You ride him?”

“Yes, I’ve ridden him.”

And so it went all through the lesson. I walked the whole lesson beside Socks’s head because if I was in the middle of the corral Bailee would still yell questions across the yard. All the yelling brought Farley who was amazed at Bailee’s progress both in the saddle and in the conversation. So I followed Socks around and helped him through the tight turns.

“You have brovers? Sisters?”

“I have one sister. You’ll meet her.”

“Mizzur Russy going?”

“Yes.”

“There kids at ranch?”

“Yeah, they are younger than you. Patrick is seven and Wyatt is five. Patrick is very outspoken. He will probably ask why you talk differently. What will you tell him?”

“I say, because I’m me. He tease me?”

“No, he’s just curious.”

“He ride harse?”

“He has a little pinto horse, named Snoopy.”

“There cow boys there?”

“They don’t wear cowboy hats but they are modern day cowboys. They only wear hats when they get dressed up or they go to rodeos and races where hats are expected.”

For once she was ready to go home after her lesson. She wanted to go pack.

I spent Wednesday packing because I knew there would be no use trying to pack with Bailee asking a hundred questions on Thursday. Shadow knew something was up. He paced the house and eyed the suitcases warily.

Bailee was waiting for me when I got to the school on Thursday. I noticed Mrs. Roland didn’t stick around to meet me and I wondered if she even told Bailee to have fun at the ranch. Did she even say goodbye before she drove away, leaving a nine year old girl and suitcase at the front of the barn?

Bailee’s questions started even before I got to the stable.

“You have harse like Shocks there?”

“No, the only black horse they have is a huge pure black horse. His name is Satan. Don’t go near him. He’s a beautiful devil of a horse. Nobody can ride him. If he charges the gate to his stall, don’t worry, it’s reinforced steel.”

“I take pictures?”

“Sure.”

When she was riding she pushed Socks for more speed but the old horse only managed a slow lope. I think she was trying to prepare for the trip, hoping she would be able to run the barrels. I wasn’t sure she should run the barrels even if the horses would, and I knew my dad’s horses would. That bothered me a little, knowing all the horses there were used to speed and experienced riders. Would Bailee be content going at her own speed when the horses were ready and willing to do more? Did Bailee have the balance she needed in a truly high-speed hairpin turn? I’d have to play it by ear.

“Chas, you ride Shocks. See if he go faster for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I wan know. I no push him if he won’t go faster. If he go faster I know to try.”

“I’ve never ridden him before. I better ride him around the outside before I try the barrels.”

If there was one place Socks would run it was in the long straightaways.

Now I was in a pickle. If I got Socks to gallop, Bailee would want to gallop too, yet I wasn’t sure Socks had much more galloping left in him. The trick, I decided, was to get just enough out of the horse to keep Bailee trying, then sit her down and have a heart to heart talk. That was going to be rough. Socks was her horse. To her he was almost immortal. He’d always been there for her so he always would be. But a nine year old girl has a lot more years left than an eighteen year old horse.

I climbed into the saddle. The stirrups were too high but I’d make do. I’d use them the same height Socks was used to feeling his cues from Bailee. I gave Socks a kick and started him around the corral. The little horse was responsive to me. I attributed that to my no nonsense attitude. He quickly moved from a walk to a trot. As I rode him I analyzed my motions and the resulting movements of the horse. Horseback tracking, if you will. Every action has a corresponding effect. In this case it wasn’t tracks on the ground I was concerned about but the response of the horse. As long as my actions were a demand for obedience Socks proved to be a wonderful horse. As soon as I backed off and asked permission first he began thinking maybe he could say no. How could I translate this into something Bailee would understand?

Socks had a nice easy lope. I bet he was a breeze to ride back in his working days. I urged him to a gallop. His ears swiveled. A question. What? He was saying, this is a school for handicapped kids. You can’t ride like this! And when I tightened my knees and gave him a firm kick and I hardened my attitude I was saying, oh yes I can! And he said, oh, okay and eased into a slow gallop. I galloped him along the fence line and thundered up to the fence where Bailee was jumping for joy. Her Socks was a good horse. He just proved it. When I tried him at the barrels he went into a lope easy enough but he slowed down at each barrel. I was getting a feel for what this horse needed but Bailee wasn’t going to like what we needed to do. Making him run the barrels fast was like asking him to run into a brick wall. He backed off and took the cautious route. Basically, he wasn’t going to bash into that wall. So we needed to back up and convince Socks he had what it took to maneuver around the wall. When I had completed the cloverleaf with little more success than Bailee I rode over to where she stood and dismounted.

“Bailee, tell me, what is the rule for being in a library.”

She looked at me wondering what libraries had to do with barrel racing. “No running, no talking. Must talk, then quiet.”

“And what happens of you talk and be rowdy in the library?”

“Teacher punish you. Send you away.”

“What happens if you run in the halls at school?”

“Teacher yell, send you office.”

“Well, I think Socks is obeying the rules. This is a school. Most of the kids can’t ride well enough to gallop so he thinks the rule is No Galloping. When you ask him to run you are asking him to break the rules. He doesn’t understand that the rules are different for barrel racing. And you can’t just tell him he can run. He doesn’t understand English. So, how do you tell a horse to run when he thinks he can’t?”

“I don know.”

“When you are at school who is allowed to run in the halls?”

“Nobody.”

“The principal could if he wanted to. Nobody would yell at the principal if he ran in the halls. They would just think he was in a hurry and he was the boss. You don’t tell the boss what to do. So… you need to be the principal, to Socks. You need to prove to him that you’re the boss. You make up the rules.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. The rider is the boss, not the horse. You are the principal, the one to be obeyed without question.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Now how do you go about acting like the boss to a horse? What if a boss went to work and all he did was hope his workers did their job? Do you think much work would get done?”

“No, people lazy. They see boss no care, they no care, too.”

“But what if the boss comes in and says, ‘All right everybody! Here’s what we’re going to do! In the next two minutes we’re going to run these barrels as fast as we can! Now go to it! Go! Go! One, two all right one more, faster!’ Do you think those workers would run the barrels?”

“Yes, if they know job and boss say run, they run.”

“Socks is the same way. You have to tell him to run with your voice, your signals, and your attitude. When you kick him to say go faster put some muscle behind it. Act like a big boss!”

“He think I mean. I no want him hate me.”

“He won’t hate you. He needs a friend and a boss. Horses like clear directions. The clearer you are the more likely he will be to respond. We’re running out of time. Try one more run. Think like a big boss! See what happens.”

She climbed over the fence mumbling, “Me big boss, me big boss.” She went around to Socks’ head, looked him in the eye and said, “Come on Socks! We do it. Fast.”

The little horse looked at her, seemingly saying, yeah right.

Bailee got into the saddle and urged Socks forward.

“Don’t go straight into the barrels. Take him on a lap first. Talk to him with your body. Tell him who’s boss. You’re the boss and you say run!”

Socks moved from a walk to a trot to a lope and Bailee urged him to give her just a bit more. Socks said, this kid sure is kick happy all of a sudden. Then the last straightaway came up and Bailee’s posture changed. She squinted over Socks’ head. She leaned forward. She kicked Socks as firmly as I thought she could and Socks went, “huh? What?” And Bailee’s attitude said, “run in the halls! I’m the boss. I say run in the halls!” And Socks said, “Yes Ma’am!”  His head came down and his reach extended just a little bit and he moved into a gallop. He pounded down the fence line.

“One lap!” I yelled. “Just one!”

She turned the horse and took another lap, black hair flying, smile as wide as the clear blue skies and behind me I heard, “Cassidy! Are you nuts?”

Farley.

“Yeah, I’m nuts,” I answered. “Talk to me later. For now I’ve got a kid so jazzed she’s going to be impossible to live with. We only have time for one barrel run. One barrel run won’t hurt.”

“Cassidy, I don’t know whether to hug you or boot you off this ranch for good. Bailee can’t ride like that.”

“She is riding like that.”

“You have no control over the ride. One stumble and she’d be toast.”

“One stumble and any of us are toast. You forget, I’ve been toasted more than once. She’s proving she can do it. Look at her. She’s leaning with the horse. She’s showed him who’s boss. She’s doing it!”

Bailee came back around and pulled Socks up to a stop. She was grinning ear to ear. “Mizzur Mac! Shocks do it! Shocks good harse!”

Before Farley could say anything I said, “Okay, Bailee, while Socks is still in go mode take him through the barrels just once. Be prepared for the sudden turns. Rein him tight. He’s going to slow down for the turns but I have a plan for that later.”

“Time it!”

“Okay.” I got out the new stopwatch. “Ready? One, two, three… Go!”

It took her a full forty-one seconds to do the cloverleaf but it was a lot better than she’d ever done before. I hoped she didn’t know that a truly good run was less than fifteen seconds.

High fives with Bailee consisted of two semi-closed fists knocking together but they contained all the enthusiasm of the real thing. She gave Socks a big hug before leading him to the stable. I recorded her new time and followed.

In the barn she was chattering away to her horse.

“Shocks, you do so good! Next time I bring carrot. I go to a ranch! Chas take me. I wish you could go. I wish you come home with me. You my fren. Every day I wish I ride…”

I smiled broadly at Farley, daring him to try and smother the enthusiasm in the barn, then followed Bailey in.

“Bailee, you did great today! Are you ready to go to my house?”

“Me care of Shocks.”

“Yeah, I know, we’ll get Socks situated first. You’ve never seen my house. I have a horse at my house, too. He’s in training. So far he isn’t rideable. He needs a lot of work. That’s why he’s going to the ranch with us. He needs to be around other horses and more people and he needs to get used to noises. I’ll be working with Apache off and on while we’re gone. You’ll like him, though; he’s a pretty horse. I have a dog, too. His name is Shadow. He likes kids.”

Socks needed more grooming than usual because he wasn’t used to running. I checked his mouth to make sure Bailee hadn’t gotten too rough with the bit. It was easy for horses to develop irritated spots from the tack. Even the fluffy saddle blankets could cause chafing. They get tossed around a tack room and pick up little sticks or rocks or nails. So checking the tack on a regular basis was a good idea. Keeping an eye on the horse at all times usually tipped me off before tack became a problem.

 

Bailey was sitting on the edge of her seat as we drove to my house.

“Where your house? Other town?”

“No, it’s in the same town, just in the foothills. It’s a good place to keep horses. There’s lots of space to ride. I can ride straight from my house into the desert.”

When we got to the house we walked around back and I introduced her to Apache.

“He big hars.”

“Yeah, don’t go in the corral. He isn’t very friendly either.”

“Where you dog?”

“He’s in the house. I can hear him barking. He’s a noisy dog.”

We went around to the driveway again and got Bailee’s suitcase out of the Jeep, then entered the house through the front door. When we stepped into the house Shadow was there to greet us.

“Shadow, sit!” I said.

Shadow sat.

“This is Bailee. Can you shake hands? Shake hands with Bailee!”

Shadow offered a paw. Bailee shook it.

“He always listen you?”

“No, but he’s pretty good. He knows lots of commands. He’ll sit, lay down, stand up, jump, go up and down obstacles, run through tunnels. Did you see all the obstacles in the back yard? That’s Shadow’s playground.”

“Dogs gots play ground? I no have play ground. Only play school. Me hate school. Kids mean. Me like Mizzur Mac school.”

“I’m all packed up for the trip but I need to make cookies. Do you know how to make cookies?”

“You make cookies? You no buy cookies?”

“I buy cookies at the store but these are special cookies. They’re for some friends. I’ll make them and take them to the station and freeze a few. You can help. You can even have some of the cookie dough. It’s a rule, you have to snitch some cookie dough or the cookies don’t rise.”

She helped me measure and mix up the cookie dough and we talked about school, and mean kids, and boys, and horse books. We made a couple dozen cookies without nuts and then I added nuts to the rest of the dough.

“Why you put nuts now?”

“The cookies without nuts are for Rusty. The rest are for Landon and the other officers. They prefer nuts. Do you like nuts?”

“Me like chocolate. What officers?”

“At the station. We’ll deliver the cookies to the station and then we’ll go out to eat with Rusty. And then tomorrow morning we’ll go to the ranch.”

“Mizzur Russy at station?”

“Yeah, he works there.”

“Me no go station.”

“Why? All the police are friends. They like kids. You can meet my friends. They’ll thank you for the cookies.”

“Me no go station. Mom say police come door, no answer. She say go my room, close door, read book, be quiet.”

My mind was going a mile a minute but all I said was, “You don’t have to worry about going to the station. The police are your friends.”

 

At the station it took some prying to get her out of the Jeep and then she was like my shadow, joined at the hip.

“Cookie delivery!” I said cheerily as I deposited a bowl of cookies on the front counter. “I had a helper this time. This is Bailee. She made the cookies.”

“How did you know I’d been on double shift?” The woman at the counter said. “I’m starving, but I don’t get a break for another half hour. Maybe I’ll survive now. Mavis! Cassidy brought cookies!”

Mavis came in from another office. “How come you only bring cookies when I start a new diet?”

“Because you start a new diet every day,” the first woman said. “They’re good, too. Got nuts.”

I went through the door to the back of the station and Bailee almost made a break for it but decided invisibility was her best friend at this point. An officer walked down the hall toward us and she shrunk behind me. A kid version of stealth mode.

“Hey, Cass, can I have one?” he said.

“Sure, Bailee made them,” I said holding out the bowl.

“Bailee, you did a great job. You even remembered the nuts.”

“See, Bailee, you don’t have to be scared of the police, as long as you remember the nuts.”

I went on and left a bowl on the counter where the guys checked in evidence. There was another desk at the back door. Bailee had started to relax a little until she saw all the police cars lined up out back. They looked official. They looked like they meant business. They meant a knock on the door. I still had three more deliveries left. These were smaller bags. One went to Tom. I led Bailee down the hall and we knocked on Tom’s door. He opened the door and Bailee jumped back with a quiet, “eep!”

“Cookie delivery,” I told him.

“Hey Cassidy! You ready for a fight?”

Bailee gripped me from behind crouching out of Tom’s sight.

“Not today. Bailee, this is silly, come out. Come here, this is Tom. He’s a detective. Come out and say hi. He isn’t going to fight you. He only fights me. When a case gets me frustrated I come box with Tom. He’s nice, even in boxing gloves.”

I squirmed around trying to get Bailee to let go but she wouldn’t. Tom gave me the hush sign and knelt down. He peeked around my legs and met Bailee face to face. He flashed her a big, friendly grin and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Tom.”

“Me Bailee,” she said timidly.

“Did you make these cookies?” Tom asked.

“Me hep Chas.”

“Well, thank you. I know you were a good helper. Did she let you lick the bowl?”

“Yeah.”

“Bailee is learning barrel racing,” I said hoping to draw her out.

“Nawww, a kid like you learning barrel racing? That’s a big kid sport.”

“Me big kid,” she said standing a little taller. “Chas, you fight Tom? You police, too?”

Tom busted out laughing. That about summed it up.

“Sort of, I’m a reserve deputy. That means I’m only a policeman when they let me, which means almost never. Remember I told you my job is to find people? Sometimes when I find people I work with the police.”

“She is good at finding people,” Tom admitted.

“Well, I have another delivery to make. We’re off to Schroeder’s office.”

I wondered what Bailee would do when confronted with Schroeder’s stern form, dressed in his always crisp police uniform, buzz cut. Even I went eep! sometimes when I saw Schroeder and I knew he was a friend. I knocked on his door, glanced in his window and went eep! He came to the door and I grinned at him nervously.

“Would you do me a favor?” I asked quietly.

“What’s that?”

“Go sit behind your desk… and smile a little”

“Is there a reason I need to be sitting down? What are you going to tell me? Do I want to hear this?”

“It’s not that. You just need to look a little less intimidating.”

He gave me an “oh, come on” look.

“Please?”

He went and sat behind his desk but he was having trouble with the smile.

“Thanks,” I said entering his office. I pulled Bailee in with me. She looked at the closing door like a prisoner condemned for life.

“Bailee, this is Mister Schroeder. He’s the big boss of the station.”

Schroeder’s smile came a bit quicker now.

“We’re making cookie deliveries before our trip to the ranch.”

“You’ll be gone until Tuesday?”

“Monday night.”

“No trouble for a long weekend, eh?”

“Thanks to Bailee I haven’t given you trouble for months.”

“What do you mean, thanks to Bailee?” He looked closer at Bailee and she shrunk behind me again.

“Don’t do that. She’s scared enough of you already.”

“How are you keeping Cassidy out of trouble? I want to know how to do that,” Schroeder asked.

“I no know.”

“I’ve been teaching riding at Farley McGyver’s riding school. Bailee is my student,” I said. “She’s learning barrel racing.”

“Farley teaches barrel racing?” Schroeder asked.

“No, I do. Farley would rather I didn’t.”

“Ah, so you’re making trouble for McGyver instead.”

“Sort of. There’s a little controversy over that. Bailee is doing great. Farley sees her doing great and worries. Kind of like what I do to you, on a small scale.”

“Gotta get them started early?”

“Very funny.”

He opened the bag of cookies. “Cassidy makes the best cookies,” he said.

“I didn’t make them, Bailee did.”

Schroeder leaned forward and Bailee hid again.

“You know what that means?” Schroeder asked.

“What?” Bailee asked.

“It means I need to share something with you.” Schroeder dug around in his desk drawer and came up with a little coloring book about the police force. Bailee had to come out of hiding to accept it, but she didn’t look very happy. She looked at the pictures. An officer listening to a lost child. An officer riding a horse, smiling like an idiot.

“Police ride horse?”

“Sometimes. We have a few mounted police.”

An officer directing traffic. I never saw so many smiling officers as I did in that book.  A loud knock, knock made Bailee jump like she’d been shot. Rusty opened the door and stuck his head in.

“Hey beautiful, I knew you were here when I saw all the cookies. Bailee, are you ready for some dinner?”

“Yes!” If it means getting out of this station in one piece, I imagined her thinking.

“Schroeder, I’ll be back Tuesday.”

“All right, have a good trip.”

“Will do.”

“Don’t get into too much trouble,” he admonished me.

“It’s almost impossible where we’re going. I spent eighteen years figuring out all of the trouble I could so they’re wise to me now.”

“Eighteen years? Is that how long it takes?”

“No, that’s just how long they had me for.”

 

Bailee had never been to a restaurant before. She wasn’t sure what to do so she kept quiet and read the menu wondering at all the pictures of food.

“Do you know what you want?” I asked her.

“No, I no know what it is.”

“Well, what do you like to eat?”

“Cake, never eat cake. Only school party get cake.”

“Well, you can’t eat cake for dinner but you can have some for dessert. Do you like beef? Chicken? Pasta? What do you eat for dinner at home?”

“Me eat stew and biscuits. Sometime chili an bread.”

“What do you like to eat at school?”

“They have pizza? School pizza look good. I never buy lunch.”

We looked on the menu. This wasn’t exactly a pizza place but we found little kid sized pizzas on the children’s menu.

“What do you eat for lunch at school?”

“Always bring one sanwich, one carrot, sometime juice. Bring carrot if one left from cook dinner. Maybe, special day there piece canny. One piece. I save canny, for walk home.”

Rusty was reading his menu but I could tell he was listening carefully. “Your mom’s going to have a heyday,” he said.

I was thinking the same thing. I was having a heyday just buying her a kiddy pizza and a piece of cake.

As Rusty ate his megamushroom and Swiss burger he watched Bailee. You’d think she’d been given a precious gift. She ate the pizza slowly, taking the smallest bites that still had pizza flavor to them.  I finished my chicken fajitas and still Bailee carefully shaved off pieces of her pizza. When she got to a slice of pepperoni she cut it in quarters and made sure a piece was on each of the next four bites. I doubted she was this meticulous with stew and biscuits.

“Would you like dessert?” I asked trying to hurry her up a little bit.

“Cake too?”

“Sure.”

“Chocolate?”

“I don’t know, let’s see what they have on the menu.”

I plucked the menu from the end of the table and turned to the desserts. Their cake looked rich. It was called Triple Truffle Treasure. I thought Bailee would make herself sick.

“Are you sure you can eat all that?” I asked.

“Yes!”

“Okay, we’ll take one Triple Truffle Treasure.”

“And three spoons?” the waitress asked.

“No, just one.”

“Good luck!” she said shaking her head and walking away.

When the waitress put the cake in front of Bailee her eyes popped out of her head.

“That’s what they all say,” the waitress said. “Are you sure you don’t want more spoons?”

“No, but maybe a small box,” I answered.

Just like the pizza, Bailee carefully ate one layer of cake at a time. There were seven layers and she made it through about three of them. The waitress packaged up two thirds of a pizza and two thirds of a Triple Truffle Treasure. Did that make it a Double Truffle Treasure? She put the two boxes in a bag with some napkins and a fork and we headed for home.

Halfway there we heard from the back seat, “This more than my birthday ever!”

Another slice of pizza disappeared and a smidgen more cake got eaten. When we got home I showed her the guestroom and where the bathroom was.

“This big bed?” she asked.

“Will you be okay in here?”

“I be okay. Is just big big bed.”

She climbed up onto it and bounced gently, smiling a little. She stretched out and pulled the pillow over like she had never felt such comfort. What was it about this kid that made me feel torn all the time? To think she only got cake at school birthday parties, and she only got pizza when a friend took her out to dinner. Normal kid things. To think she thought an ordinary bed was a luxury. I didn’t mind her being used to stew and biscuits. A kid ate what was served. A kid grew up however their parents lived. Maybe I was spoiled. In fact, I knew I was. I was spoiled rotten, but it seemed other kids could at least be spoiled a little. A little spoiling was good for them.

“We need to get up early in the morning so get a good night’s sleep. If you need something in the night you know where things are in the kitchen and the bathroom is just across the hall.”

“Me n Shadow do… tricks?”

“You mean the obstacles? You want to take him through the agility course?”

Her eyes brightened.

“Yes!”

“You’re going to need some help. He thinks I’m the boss so I don’t know if he will listen to you.”

We went out back, Shadow dashing out the door before us. Bailee lunged for him.

“It’s okay, he won’t run away,” I said. “Shadow, work time, come!”

He dashed over and sat at my feet.

“Shadow, heel!” I commanded walking toward the first obstacle. I chose the tunnel because I knew Shadow loved the tunnel and it was one of the easier ones for Bailee to try. “Shadow, sit!” He sat and then I addressed Bailee. “Okay, watch me. Say ‘Shadow, go through’ and make a tunneling motion with your arm. Go through! Just like that.”

Bailee stood beside the tunnel, “Shadow, go through!” she commanded.

Shadow cocked his head at me. “Well, mom?” he seemed to say. “The kid says go through. Should I go through?”

“Go on,” I said.

He dashed through the tunnel and came back around. Bailee laughed at him.

“Shadow! Go through!” she said.

I gave him the okay and he ran through again. This time though he was ready for the next obstacle so he waited for us to follow to the next one.

“Maybe it would help if I showed you how it’s normally done. Let me run him through the course and then you can try it. Listen to the commands because those are the words he knows. Shadow! Heel!”

I jogged to the first obstacle, the A frame.

“Shadow! Up! Go up! Okay, come down!”

Next the dog walk because it was similar to the A frame.

“Go up! Come, Shadow, up! Good boy! All right, down.”

The tunnel.

“Go through!”

The hurdle.

“Jump!”

The broad jump.

“Jump again!”

The seesaw.

“Shadow, go up, over, come on! Good boy. Easy, easy. Okay, down”

Shadow didn’t like the seesaw because it moved. The collapsed tunnel.

“Go through! Go! Go! Good boy!”

The weave poles.

“Weave! Shadow weave! Good boy!”

The tire jump.

“Jump, boy! Good dog!”

The crossover.

“Shadow up! Up! Good boy, slow, wait.” Shadow waited on top of the crossover. He was waiting for a cue on which way to come down. I didn’t know the official commands for agility so we used to me, away, forward and back.

“To me!” I said and he ran down the board that ended at my feet. “Heel!” I said walking back to Bailee. “See, that’s how we do it, at a jog. When he competes he will be timed and the fastest dog to do the whole course wins.”

“He good! You teach all that?”

“Yeah, we had a couple of very boring years and we worked on agility.” The years after Jack died, I remembered sadly. Not too sadly, though, the memory was fading and my life now was much fuller than it ever had been then. “You don’t have to do them in that order but you have to keep going, so don’t stand there deciding what to do or he just might take off without you and that’s a bad thing, too. He has to be corrected for that.”

Bailee didn’t have much luck with the agility course. When Shadow balked I went over and gave the right signals.

“Try just the jumps and tunnels. Those are his favorites.”

And so Bailee played with Shadow until it got too dark to see and then we all turned in.

 

“Did you bring something to do on the drive? It’s a four hour drive.”

“I bring books. But I want see everything. I watch.”

“Well, keep a book handy. It’s not a very interesting drive.”

“Everything interesting,” she said and I thought maybe that was one of the things I liked about this kid. “Walk to school. Every day is same but every day different. Man walk little dog. Woman walk big dog. Cats in yards. Birds. Me like walk school. Me watch.”

And sure enough, I learned a lot about the drive I’d made so many times.

“What grow those trees?” They were oranges.

“Look Chas! Bird houses under bridge.” Sure enough, they were cliff swallows.

“So many cows!”… “Them have horses, look one like Shocks!”… It went on and on. In spite of breakfast she brought along the pizza and cake and it slowly disappeared on the drive. She was on the edge of her seat when we turned down the white fence leading to the ranch house. There were going to be plenty of nose and fingerprints on the windows.

Shadow recognized the turn onto the road and came to attention, too.

Patrick came tearing out of Jesse’s house and jumped on his bicycle. He dumped the bike at the porch steps and waited for us to get out of the Explorer.

“Pat, go fetch Randy. I need some help with an obnoxious horse.”

Apache didn’t like the trailer one bit. I was surprised there wasn’t a hole kicked in the side of it. There were thumpings and bumpings inside.

Patrick jumped on his bike and pedaled away. Pretty soon Randy came jogging up from the barn with a lead rope. Between the two of us we managed to get Apache out of the trailer and calmed. Randy stood there holding the lead with a firm hand, Apache skittering along beside him. Bailee climbed down from the back seat, took one look at the handsome cowboy and fell in love. Randy was everything the books talked about, minus the hat.

“Chas,” Bailee said tugging on my shirt and staring off after Randy, “How old Ranny?”

Oh gee. “He’s twenty-five. There’s lots of people you need to meet. This is Patrick. He’s my nephew. Patrick, this is Bailee.”

Patrick extended his hand tentatively. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said because it was expected of him. He didn’t look like he was very pleased, though. Bailee, shook it, also tentatively. Who wanted to shake hands with a seven year old kid when there was a real cowboy around?

“Where’d you get that wild pinto?” Randy asked.

“He belongs to the school where I teach riding. I’m supposed to make him fit for young kids to ride. Right now he needs socializing and noise conditioning. I’ll work with him here in the busyness of the ranch and see if that helps.”

“Oh yeah!” Zack said clumping up onto the porch, “We got us a new ice pack bet going. That horse’ll have you on the ground before you know it.”

“I ride him at home. He is saddle broke. He just has… issues.”

My mom hurried out the front door making the screen slam and Bailee jump.

“Cassidy! You’re home! Rusty! It’s so good to see you again!” she said amid a flurry of hugs. Bailee just watched her, inching a little behind me. Martha followed, always next in line for hugs. She eyed the child beside me. I gave Martha a hug and then Martha went on to hug Bailee too.

“Are you ready for some real ranch cookin’?” Martha asked.

“I think so,” Bailee answered. I wondered if she was picturing pots of stew and chili like in the kids’ westerns she read. If there was one thing Martha knew how to do it was cook.

“Bailee, this is my mom, Mrs. Gordon.”

“Call me Betty, dear.”

“And this is Martha, she helps my mom with the house and cooking.”

“More like I run the place,” Martha said.

“Randy and Zack work with the horses. Zack looks for opportunities to make bets on how much trouble I’ll get into. Zack, it’s no fair startling the horse just to win five bucks. I do need some noise distractions but not for the purpose of winning a bet. We need to ease him into it.”

“Show Bailee to her room,” Mom said.

We walked into the big ranch living room with the fireplace burning brightly, the big overstuffed couch and easy chairs beckoning. Beyond she could see the huge dining room, table stretching from one end of the room to nearly the kitchen, chairs for a dozen people, and beyond that windows provided a view of the old oak trees and yellowed hills behind the ranch. The living room was probably the same size as Bailee’s house.

“This is the house I grew up in,” I told her. “I’ll give you a room close to mine. You’ll even have your very own bathroom. My sister and I didn’t even get to fight over bathrooms because every bedroom has its own bathroom. It’s almost like a hotel.”

Martha and Mom should turn it into a dude ranch. I went from room to room looking to see if Martha had fixed one up especially for Bailee. I hit the bullseye in the room across from mine. Most of the rooms were decorated the same in rust, deep green, and blue gray but Martha almost always added floral arrangements to the dressers and added little personal touches when she was expecting a guest. In this case she lined up horse models on the windowsills, put a saddle on a quilt rack in the corner, and put pretty little bottles of strawberry cream shampoo, conditioner, lotion, anything a little girl could want in the bathroom. There were even hair styling gadgets in the drawers.

“Hey, Bailee, Martha went all out for you, look,” I said opening the drawers. Curling irons, mousse, hot air rollers, little samples of makeup and nail polish were lined up in the drawers.

“Me no know how to use that stuff. Mom get mad I use hers.”

“Well, this is here for you. You can use it if you want to. You can play with the horses on the windowsill, too. Oh, and if you want a real show, take that lasso off the saddle and ask Patrick how to use it. He’s learned a bunch of rope tricks.”

“Pat rick?”

“Yeah, my nephew.”

“Little Pat rick.”

“Yeah.”

“Not Ranny?”

“Randy can show you how to rope a horse. Patrick can show you how to twirl a rope over your head, jump into and out of a moving rope and twirl it at your side. He’s pretty good. Besides, Randy is too old for you.”

“An Pat rick too young.”

“Give him a chance. Patrick will surprise you. He can ride and rope and tell a good campfire story. He can track animals and people. You can find him hanging out with Elan. You can recognize Elan because he has long straight black hair and he doesn’t wear boots.”

“Why he no wear boots?”

“He likes to feel the ground beneath his feet, just like me. I’ll wear boots when I train Apache but when I’m not working I wear moccasins.”

“Indian shoes?”

“Yeah, but Elan wears them because he is an Indian.”

Rusty clattered in with our rolling suitcases and Bailee’s little bag.

“Do you want to see my room? It’s been cleared out but it’s the same decorations I chose when I was a teenager.”

We walked across the hall and entered my cowgirl room. The bedspread had western silhouettes all over a buckskin background: bucking horses, cactus, barbed wire, and sheriff stars. The curtains matched with contrasting toppers.  A border of grazing horses circled the ceiling and the walls were painted a very light tan. A picture of Shasta and I adorned one wall. It wasn’t there when I was a kid. My mom had added that after I left home. The windows overlooked paddocks of grazing quarter horses. When I was sick my mom would have Steve put Shasta in the paddock under my window so I could watch him. It wasn’t comforting, though. It made me itch to get out again and often I did, sneaking out at night I’d ride Shasta around the paddock bareback. My mother never questioned why my pajamas were full of horse hair and she never told me I’d just get sicker going out at night in nothing but my PJs. Somehow my mom just knew, there was only so much she could do.

“Chas, we see your horse?”

“Sure, we need to stop by my dad’s office on the way. Remember, he’s not as stern as he looks. You must call him Mister Gordon and you must be respectful. If you do that he’s a big old softie.”

“Why? He look mean?”

“No, he doesn’t really look mean. He looks nice. Do you remember Mr. Schroeder? He looks stern and he acts stern, well, Dad doesn’t need to look stern. Don’t worry, just be polite.”

“What you mean, be polite?”

“Call him Mr. Gordon, remember to say yes, sir and no, sir. You know, all those things they taught you in finishing school.”

“What finish school? I’m fourth grade.”

“I was just kidding. Finishing school is where you go to learn all those extra manners that normal people don’t know exist.”

I’m afraid my attitude about my dad didn’t help much. I approached the office door hesitantly. I knocked gently and peeked in the open door, just like I had since I was about four years old. He looked up from his books.

“Come in, Cassidy,” he said just like he might if I’d been living at home all this time. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing, just reporting in and introducing you to a friend. This is Bailee,” I said turning around, but Bailee was still outside the door. I gave her an impatient look, sympathizing a little. “Come on, Bailee, say hi to Dad and then I’ll show you the horses. You want to ride Shasta? Then come say hi.”

Bailee came around the doorway and stood there like she was facing a firing squad. Dad stood up behind his desk, dwarfing it. Bailee stood her ground.

“Bailee? I’m Mr. Gordon. I’m Cassidy’s dad. It’s good to meet you.”

“Yessir,” squeaked Bailee.

“Do you like horses?”

“Yessir.”

“Do you have experience on a horse?”

“Yessir.” The squeaks were getting fainter and fainter and I was afraid she was going to make a run for it.

“Tell me about the riding you do.”

“Yessir, Chas, teach me barl racing. I ride Shocks. He black horse. Got white shocks. He good harse.”

“I’m sure he is. So, you’re learning barrel racing? A young thing like you?”

“Yessir.”

“She’s doing great at it, too,” I put in to give Bailee a little boost.

“And you want to see my horses.”

“Yessir!”

“You go on to the yard and wait for Cassidy. She’ll be along in a minute.”

“Yessir.”

He waited until she was out of earshot and then said, “What happened to her?”

“A car wreck.”

“How long ago?”

“Two years.”

“Two years and she’s still like that?”

“Yes sir. She doesn’t have a lot of support. I think when the doctors said they’d done what they could her parents used up the therapy that was on her insurance and called it quits. She’s come a long ways in the speech department. If she cares enough to talk she figures out enough words to get by.”

“What about her hands?”

“I don’t talk about her hands. She guides a horse. She can hold things. She writes crudely.”

“She got a head on her shoulders?”

“Yes sir, a good one. She’s a year behind in school but she reads at a higher level than most kids in her grade.”

He stared at his feet for half a minute.

“She a Randy?”

“In a way. I know she has a mother and a brother. I know she has a home. But, yeah, in a way.”

Randy was taken in by the ranch because he was homeless. Dad wasn’t asking if Bailee was homeless, well, in a way he was. What he was really asking was if she was a child in need. I knew to answer his questions and not question back. He’d reach his own conclusions about Bailee and it didn’t surprise me in the least when he appeared at the barn and stood quietly off to the side. Like I told Bailey, once Big Wayne Gordon got a dose of respect he was a big old softie.

“These harse bigger! Much much bigger.”

“You’re used to Socks. Socks is a small horse. Think you could ride a horse this big?”

“Yes! I ride any horse! I ride Shasta.”

“Which horse do you like the best?”

“I like Shasta, cause know you choose best. But honest? Me like this one,” she said pointing out Buck.

“He’s a good horse, too. What is it about him that catches your eye?”

“Him… I lose word. Not strong, sort of… but… he look like he smart, he know his job… an me like his color. His color like cowboy ride to hide. Many harse his color in old west book.”

“You’ve got a good eye. Would you like to ride Buck?”

“Can I?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t bring you here and then keep you from riding.”

I saddled Buck and Shasta. Bailee wanted to do it but she couldn’t reach to lift the saddle and bridle and we didn’t have the special platforms that aided her at the school. I climbed into Buck’s saddle, found a good length and tied the reins so Bailee could hold them easily. Once she was in the saddle I adjusted the stirrups for her. When we were both saddled up I led the way to the track. I wanted to find out what she was capable of.

We walked half a lap letting her get used to being on a bigger horse. When we moved on to a trot and she rode easily, knowing to use her knees to gentle the bouncing.

“Be ready when we move on to a canter. These horses are used to taking off like a shot. When they are asked to speed up it is usually to catch something already moving or to put some miles behind them in a hurry. They aren’t like Socks where you have to ask multiple times. These horses are ready to go. Are you ready?”

She waited until she’d settled in her mind exactly what she needed to be ready for and then she nodded, concentrating on the horse. I watched her give Buck a kick and he jumped to attention. Bailee was startled at first, then eased herself back down into the saddle smiling broadly at the feel of a real horse beneath her. I stayed by her side.

“This big big horse!” she laughed.

Buck’s canter was as fast as Socks’ halfhearted run of the previous day. We did one lap at a lope. She was used to these three gaits, she just wasn’t used to horses of this caliber. Farley’s horses were all donated. Their problems had been worked out but some of them, like Socks, were donated because they needed an easy retirement. They loved the kids and the kids loved them. The burdens of each day were easy. The weight on aching joints was light. Farley balked at the barrel racing because he had to. He had to put safety first. It was his duty even if his heart saw a free spirit who needed to soar. He had a school to run, a school with a reputation. He had an image to maintain and that image was not one of galloping barrel racers. It was of handicapped kids learning and growing. It was slow paced. Smiling kids on smiling horses doing nice, safe things. Bailee, I feared, was fixing to outgrow the school. And when that happened what would become of Socks? Bailee was content there until I came along. Maybe she’d have been better off with a nice firm no when she asked about barrel racing.

 

Bailee became almost invisible at the dinner table. The ranch hands were talking work a mile a minute. Mom and Jesse were talking shopping a mile a minute. Patrick was looking at Bailee jealously. Wyatt wanted his mashed potatoes with butter not gravy. The mountains of food were intimidating to Bailee, too.

“Excuse me y’all but we have a guest at our table tonight,” Dad announced. “Please welcome Bailee Roland. She came with Cassidy and Rusty to do some riding. Bailee, I think you’ve met most everybody except Steve, Elan and James.”

They all gave Bailee a nod of acknowledgment. She looked back as she slunk down in her chair.

As the bowls and platters were passed I placed a little bit of everything on Bailee’s plate.

“You don’t have to eat it all,” I told her. “Save room for dessert.”

She brightened at the prospects of something sweet.

“Chas,” she whispered. “This your big family?”

I looked around the table. “Yeah, this is my big family.” The real one was smaller but I accepted the hands as family, too. They had eaten meals with us longer than I could remember. They watched over Jesse and I as much as our Mom and Dad did, maybe more. Elan was a newcomer to the family but seemed to have settled in. He and Steve had just gotten back from an errand so I hadn’t had a chance to see how he worked out in the normal scheme of things.

“So, Trouble, what kind of trouble have you gotten into since your last visit?” Steve asked.

I tried to think of what had happened to me that I wanted Bailee to know. So I told the story about looking for Sherri Champlain.

 

“Something’s still eating at you.” Rusty pointed out as we lay in our room that night.

“I think I did the wrong thing letting Bailee try barrel racing. Now we’re stuck in a Catch 22. She’s got a horse who can’t possibly be a barrel racer. Farley can’t support Bailee’s dream because it endangers his school’s reputation. Bailee is getting a dose of real horses and she’s not going to be content doing little exercises at Farley’s school but she won’t abandon Socks because they have bonded. I don’t know what to do. I can’t undo any of it.”

“Take Shasta home with you. She can do barrel racing on Shasta, and visit Socks at the school, just like always. You’d have your horse home with you.”

“No, Shasta stays with the ranch. This is his home.”

“Your dad’s been looking at Apache. I don’t know what’s stewing in that noggin of his but it might work to your advantage. Feel him out. I think he sees a young, fit horse and he sees some of his work horses getting up in years.”

“You’re kidding. He can’t just claim Apache. Apache is Farley’s horse.”

“He could offer to buy Apache. You admitted you didn’t think Apache was destined for Farley’s school anyway. Maybe you can bring a barrel racer to Farley’s school and get Apache off your hands at the same time. Watch and see what happens.”

Just what I needed when I was trying to sleep, more ideas to stew on. I went to the window and looked out over the paddocks.

“I hope it’s easier with our own kids,” I said.

“It will be. Part of the problem is that Bailee is not your child. If she was, you could teach her anything you want. It’s all these other factors that complicate it.”

“Well, that’s a relief anyway. I really believe in encouraging kids in the direction of their passion.”

“What about husbands? You’re sure encouraging my passions standing there in the window like that.”

“Especially husbands. Husbands should follow their passions, too.”

“It helps if husbands and wives share the same passions,” he said as a kiss closed over my mouth.

 

I got up with the sun knowing as soon as Bailee was up I’d have little time to work with Apache. I took a quick shower and went down to the paddock, caught the stubborn animal and tied him to the fence while I saddled him and bridled him. I rode him around the large paddock before venturing out to tour the rest of the ranch. I wanted him to see it come alive, to hear the tractor start up that brought hay to the horses in the pastures, be near the shouts of men and the noise of tools and the clanging of the triangle that called the cowboys to breakfast. With each sound Apache jumped and I held him to a controlled walk. I didn’t coddle him and tell him everything was okay. If I reacted to the things he feared he would know it was dangerous. I had to treat the sounds as everyday occurrences and something to accept no matter how it made him feel. I couldn’t change the way noises affected Apache but I could change his reaction to them. And eventually, maybe they would become a more normal part of his life.

I caught my dad watching. He did indeed have his eye on the flashy pinto.

“You think he’ll ever be fit?” Dad asked as I rode by. Apache heard a door slam and skittered away from it. I brought him back to a walk and made a u-turn to come back around to Dad.

“I give him 5 years to be ready to settle down enough for those kids. But I hate to do it to him. He’ll make a good horse for an experienced rider with just a little conditioning, but to get him to slow down enough for Farley’s school? I’ll have to take all the fight out of him and I’m fixing to tell Farley I won’t do that.”

Dad just scratched his head, but I could tell he agreed with me.

Zack hurried by but Dad stopped him. “Zack, are you heading up to the house to look for me?”

“No sir, I’m heading up to the house for a stack of pancakes.”

“The bell hasn’t rung yet.”

“Hey, Zack,” I said. “If you’ll ride the dirt bike around the track for me, then you’ll have a quick way up to the house when the bell does ring. Apache needs to get used to being around machinery.”

I rode Apache to the racetrack and put him into a nice steady lope. The more energy he used up running the less he’d have left to fight with. I kept him at it until Zack appeared with the dirt bike.

“Take it easy at first,” I told Zack. “No loud engine gunning when you’re close to him. Just ride around and gauge your actions based on how he reacts to you. My job is to maintain control of the horse.”

Zack put-putted around the track and I rode Apache pretending everything was rosy and bright, wrestling Apache back in line whenever the dirt bike got too close and it startled him. Round and around we went until Martha rang the triangle on the back porch. Zack stopped and looked to me for permission to go.

“Go on, you earned your pancakes this morning,” I told him.

Zack hit the gas and took off for the house in a cloud of dust and Apache went ballistic. As I fought to stay in the saddle and ride out Apache’s panic attack I thought I should have known Zack had the attention span of a flea. I pointed Apache down the track and gave him the go ahead to run off his anxiety. Once he had a direction things could be controlled easier.

“That damn kid, will he ever get a head on his shoulders?” Dad said as I rode past.

“Looks like you got your hands full with that one,” Steve said of Apache.

“What do you think?” Dad asked Steve.

“If Cass has trouble with him you really want him around here?”

“You don’t want to deal with him?”

“It’s not that. You know we’ve had worse cases than a noise spooked horse.”

“He’s a young un.”

“Take some training. Bet he’s not broke for roping.”

“He’s half way there,” I put in. “He knows to stand still when his rider is gone. He needs to be taught what to do after a calf is roped, but you’ve done that before. It’s just the noise problem I’m working through. Well, that and the fact that he’s just too much horse for what Farley wants to do.”

“Do you think this Farley character would be keen to a trade?” Dad asked.

“What kind of a trade?”

“You put Bailee up on the horses, see which ones she takes to.”

“I plan to but I don’t know what Farley will think about a trade. Apache was given to him to use at the school. He might feel funny trading him off if he was a gift.”

“See what Bailee thinks, then we’ll talk again.”

 

Everybody was finishing up breakfast when I finally got back up to the house. After the riding that morning I needed to groom my horse before turning him loose again. Ranch rule. I automatically just did it, but it put me late for breakfast. I felt bad making Bailee fend for herself in the big house. Martha was sitting next to Bailee at the big dining room table. Most of the hands had come, eaten, and gone on to do other ranch chores.

“So, what would you like for dinner tonight?” Martha asked Bailee.

“Pizza?”

“Pizza? Really?” Martha asked. “I don’t think we’ve ever had pizza for dinner. Maybe for lunch if I have all the ingredients. What about dessert?”

“Cake?”

“What kind?”

“Choc lat.”

“If you make pizza, be sure and invite the boys. They love pizza. That’s one of the first things they ask for at my house,” I said.

“Chas! Today we barl race?” Bailee asked, glad for a familiar face.

“Are you sure you’re ready? Yesterday you were only cantering. When a horse is trained in barrel racing they take it at a gallop. Are you sure you’re ready for the speed and the quick turns?”

“Yes!”

Somehow I knew she’d say that. I would have at her age whether I was ready or not. I was always ready to try. I also found out the hard way that I wasn’t ready to try everything that I thought I was. I wasn’t sure I wanted Bailee to learn the same way I had.

“Are you ready to try a different horse? I think Mack would be a good choice for barrel racing.”

“What color Mack?”

“He’s bay. He’s a good horse. He’s smaller than Buck but he’s smart. He has a good feel for the barrels.”

I ate a scoop of scrambled eggs as I talked because Bailee was raring to go.

 

When we got down to the corral the barrels weren’t set up yet so I had to retrieve them from behind the barn. They were big, bulky oil drums, painted red, white and blue. They had always been awkward for me to move, so as a kid I had developed my own way of transporting them. I pulled them over on their side and one by one I hopped on top of them and walked backwards rolling the barrel forwards. Bailee laughed at me when she saw me walking on top of the barrel.

“Chas! What you do?”

“I’m just putting the barrels in the corral.”

“But why you do that?”

“It’s funner and I can’t carry them. Go open the gate.”

She ran and opened the gate and ran back.

“Me try?”

“Sure,” I said hopping off.

She climbed up awkwardly, but the barrel shifted under her, dumping her off.

“Try again,” I said.

She climbed up and I held up a hand for her to balance. She stood shakily. I waited for the shaking to stop then told her, “Walk backwards, slowly.”

One step and the barrel moved too quickly and she had to jump down again.

“It takes some practice,” I admitted. I hopped back up and began moving the barrel again. By the third barrel I had lost patience walking them and just shoved it ahead of me. We went to the barn and I introduced her to Mack.

“Mack’s a good horse. Old Frank favored him, and Old Frank had an eye for what makes a horse tick.”

“Who Old Frank?”

“He used to work at the ranch. He was like a grandfather to me. He passed away earlier this year.”

“Why he die?”

“He was just old. But if Old Frank saw something in Mack you can be sure he’s got what it takes to do the job.”

We saddled up Mack. I adjusted the bridle to fit and we were in business. Bailee rode Mack to the corral. She seemed a lot more comfortable with Mack than she had with Buck. I thought it was because Mack was closer to the same size as Socks.

“Be ready,” I told Bailee. “Always be ready for anything when you are in the saddle. Horses are unpredictable. Try taking the barrels slow first. Do you remember the pattern?”

“Go far side barrel, tight turn.”

“Good! Do you want me to go through it or do you want to take it on your own?”

She grinned at me and put her heals to her horse with such a firm determination that Mack leaped forward and Bailee did a backflip right off his back end and landed in the dirt with a thud.

“I swear, she looked just like you when she did that,” Dad said, shaking his head.

“Bailee! Are you okay?” I said running to her aid.

She was scratched and bleeding, dusty and still in shock from the fall but she just said, “Him fast harse!”

“I told you slow and I told you to be ready for anything,” I reminded her.

Mack stopped then came back and nuzzled Bailee’s shoulder.

“Him yike me,” she observed.

“Come on, let’s get you up to the house and get these scrapes washed out.”

“No, me want try it.”

“We will, as soon as we make sure you’re okay,” I said thinking I sounded an awful lot like Landon and Antonio, and Bailee was sounding a lot like me.

On the way back to the house we saw Elan and Patrick, noses to the ground, puzzling something out.

“What them do?” Bailee asked.

“They are tracking. It’s an interest they both share so they track together and teach each other the intricacies.”

“What tracking?”

“Tracking is following tracks, maybe they see dog tracks or fox or coyote tracks. Maybe they are learning to tell one person’s tracks from another.”

Patrick looked up and saw me with Bailee and looked disappointed. I thought I better do something with him later.

Bailee sat through my ministrations grudgingly. She had torn a hole in the knee of her jeans but it looked like they were about due to rip anyway.  I also noticed they were about two inches short.

“What happened?” Mom asked.

“Mack fast horse!” Bailee said, proud of her little adventure.

“So I see. Are you okay?”

“Yes, me fine, only Chas think I need all dis.”

“We can’t send you home with your clothes all torn up. We’ll go to town and get you some new ones,” Mom said.

She was just looking for any excuse to go shopping for Bailee but maybe if Mom took Bailee to town I could spend some time with Patrick and Rusty.

Zack walked in, looked around and said, “Rats!”

My guess was that he was checking on the icepack bet.

 

Back at the corral I showed Bailee just what she could really expect out of these horses.

“Just watch one run. You’ll see you have to expect the horse to move erratically. You have to lean with the horse, be ready when he speeds up and slows down. Grip with your knees and stay firmly in the saddle.”

I climbed up on Mack, rode him to position and got a nod from Bailee before I set my heels to the horse. Mack leapt into an instant gallop and I turned him toward the first barrel. I reined him in a tight circle around the barrel. One, two, three barrels and a run for the start, a quick pull up and we stopped in a cloud of dust.

“Yes! Yes! Mack fast horse! Me try now?”

Again I asked, “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Yes!”

I was beginning to see what I put my parents through. I climbed down and helped her climb up.

“Be ready. Lean into the leap. It’s going to be fast. Don’t push for speed, just take it easy.” Yeah, right, I thought. Bailee had as much restraint as a snowball going downhill. “Ready? Wait until you are really ready. Remember what happened last time and plan for it.”

“Come on Mack, you fast horse! We do dis!”

She crouched over the saddle, counted to three and brought her heels down. Mack leapt to the command and ran straight ahead.

“Turn him! Turn him to the first barrel!” I called out.

She reined right and Mack headed for the first barrel. I didn’t stress a tight turn at this speed.  She needed to feel the turn and lean with the horse. The turns could be refined later. Now it was just important to get a feel for the ride and learn what to expect.

“All right! Go to the next one!”

Three barrels and she headed for the start again. Mack thundered toward me and I jumped out of the way.

“Chas! Me did it! Me did it!”

“You sure did!”

“Mack! We did it!” She said hugging the horse’s big neck. Mack tossed his head in agreement.

After two more sloppy, but successful, runs I declared a rest time for Mack. He didn’t really need it but Bailee would run him into the ground if I let her and I knew I had to parcel out my time. Mom would be thrilled to take Bailee to town and then I could spend time with Rusty or Patrick.

I admonished my mother, “Don’t go overboard! Bailee isn’t used to having a lot. She doesn’t need fancy things to be happy. Think basic. She’ll probably need help with buttons. Try to have patience and don’t correct her English. A couple of months ago she barely spoke so she’s doing wonderful now.”

Mom and Bailee were gone for hours. As soon as they pulled out of the driveway I found Patrick. I walked down to his house and heard voices from the tree house.

Patrick: “I know I need to share. I just get to see you guys a couple times a year and then she brings this girl along. I just want things to be like always, that’s all.”

Rusty: “Me, too, Pat, but Bailee helped Aunt Cassidy be strong again and Cassidy wants to help Bailee, too. She hasn’t forgotten you. You have to understand where Bailee comes from to understand why it was important for her to be here. I don’t expect you to understand it, but you’ve got to accept it.”

Pat: “She gets to see Aunt Cassidy twice a week! I only get to see her twice a year!”

Rusty: “But it’s not Aunt Cassidy that Bailee needs here, it’s a chance to be like you for just one weekend.”

Pat: “Like me?”

Rusty: “You live a life Bailee can only dream about. It doesn’t seem like anything special to you but some kids would do anything to live like you do. Bailee’s one of them. Instead of getting mad at her, try and show her what it’s really like. Show her Snoopy. Tell her how you work with him. She needs to learn how to get along with horses. If you show her she will know it’s something a kid can do.”

I climbed the ladder and peeked into the tree house.

“Come on down,” I said. “Grandma took Bailee shopping.”

Pat and Rusty grinned at each other. Finally!

“Poor Bailee! Does she know what she’s in for?” Pat said.

“Girls take to it better than boys,” I told him.

They didn’t really want to do anything. They just wanted time so I climbed up into the tree house with them. After a while Wyatt climbed up, too.

“Aunt Cassidy, will you teach me how to swim?” Wyatt asked.

“We don’t have enough water here at the ranch.”

“Will you draw me a picture to color?”

“Huh! You have come to the wrong person. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.”

“Yes you do. You made the picture on your wedding cards.”

“Only because I didn’t have any choice.”

“How can you not have a choice?” Pat asked. “They were your cards.”

“I just made one as an experiment. I didn’t plan on actually sending those out. But then the news people saw the card in Uncle Rusty’s truck when they were trying to dig me out of the mine and they found out we were getting married. So they blew up the whole wedding story and used the card in their broadcast. Since everybody thought that was the wedding announcement I had to stick with it, so I had copies made.”

“Well, you still did it. You can draw.”

“Thanks, Wyatt.”

“Well? Will you?”

So we all climbed down from the tree house and spent the next hour drawing silly pictures. First he asked for a lion, then a horse. Then Patrick got into the whole idea of drawing for his own purposes and asked me to draw different animal tracks.

“You know, you boys can try riding the cloverleaf when I am working with Bailee. You will just have to take turns. Bailee would like it if you joined us.”

“She talks funny. She doesn’t like me.”

“She talks funny because she is learning to talk again. When she was seven she was in a car crash. She’s just like you except she has to work a little harder to communicate. The more she is around kids who talk normally and talk to her the more normal her speech will become. And it’s not that she doesn’t like you but that she is scared that you’ll feel exactly like you do. She would like it if you rode with us. We can get out a stop watch and have a competition.”

“But I’ve never done barrel racing,” Patrick said.

“But you’ve got more experience on a horse. You know how to get Snoopy to do what you want.”

 

And so I ended up with a kiddy competition. Wyatt was too intimidated by the roughness of the sport but Patrick took to it. After Bailee tried riding Mack she also rode Chet and Shasta but something brought her back to Mack’s stall again and again. There was just something in the horse that she liked and Mack liked her, too. Patrick rode Snoopy, the little pinto horse that James had bought for the boys to learn on.

 

Bailee was proud of the new clothes she brought back from her shopping trip with Mom. She now had real western jeans, boots, western cut blouses and a white cowboy hat. She strutted around in her new clothes and rode straighter in the saddle. She even showed her new outfits to Mack who just wanted to know if the pockets contained any treats for him.

 

Dad watched the goings on with interest. He seemed pleased with Bailee’s choice of mounts.

Mom followed Bailee’s actions with interest, too. She noticed the change in the girl when she had new clothes and she followed Bailee around in the background taking pictures. I think she was planning some project. Her and Jesse were always coming up with crafty things to do together.

Bailee put her all into the barrel racing, except when the horses needed a rest. Then she prowled the barns and corrals looking for Randy.

Apache continued to be his ornery self. I spent several hours on the track with Rusty riding the motorcycle around. I rode Apache around the ranch while cars were coming and going. I always got the same reaction out of him. He pulled away, forgetting the job at hand. If the engine was loud he bucked gently. If the noise came too close he struck out with hooves. When things were quiet he cooperated fine. He loved to run and he even ran the barrels a couple of times without mishap. We had a showdown of the pintos and Apache won easily because Snoopy and Patrick were both smaller. The little horse just didn’t have the get up and go that Apache had.

“Cassidy, I’d like to talk to you about that horse,” Dad finally said. I met him in his office. “What are McGyver’s plans for Apache?”

“Well, eventually he’d like the kids at the school to be able to ride him.”

“And these kids…”

“Are handicapped. Bailee’s a good rider but there are a few more advanced. Farley said he had a couple of kids ready to try jumping if he had a horse trained to it. Most of the kids simply ride in figure eights around a corral. But they do it proudly.”

Dad thought for a minute.

“Apache will never take to a life like that.”

I repeated my 5 year prediction.

Dad nodded. “But he’d take to the work here.”

“You’d have to talk to Farley about that.”

“You got a phone number?”

I wasn’t sure I liked Dad’s manipulative ways but I also could see that trading Apache for Mack had a lot of advantages. Apache would have a home where he’d be used. Mack would head for a more settled life and after twelve years he was ready. Bailee would have a horse she could learn barrel racing on.

“Dad, what if Farley won’t let Bailee learn barrel racing at the school?”

“I aim to find out. And what if he won’t? I could trade him for Chet and you could have Mack. Bailee could work on her barrel racing with you on the side. Or I could trade him to McGyver if Bailee can work on barrel racing at the school.”

“What about Socks? Bailee won’t turn her back on her old friend.”

“Hun, I can’t do everything. What do you want?”

What did I want? I didn’t know. I didn’t want a horse at my house permanently. I didn’t want a student showing up at my house every few days like clockwork. I liked Bailee. I was convinced we were linked for some time to come, but it was through the school.

“So, you’ve decided you’d give up Mack and Chet if you can have Apache? You’re going to be short a work horse.”

“If I need another I can bring up a colt I’ve got in training. Apache’s got spunk. He’s a looker. People will notice him when they come see the quarter horses.”

“You can’t breed him. He isn’t a quarter horse. I don’t think he’s registered as any particular breed.”

“That’s okay.”

“What’re you going to do if you have people here looking at the horses and Apache decides to go berserk because somebody started up a car when he wasn’t expecting it?”

“Randy and Elan will work with him.”

“I need to think about this before you call Farley. I need to figure out a way to talk to Bailee, too.”

“You’ll find her in Mack’s stall.”

 

Dad was right. Bailee was in Mack’s stall. She’d brushed him to a shine and she was laying on his back braiding the last of his mane. He looked silly. I had to be very careful how I talked to Bailee. I didn’t want to commit to anything but I needed to find out how we were going to make this work. It was tempting to just take Apache home and forget about it but….

“Bailee? Do you miss Socks?”

“Sometimes, me used to long weekend no ride.”

“What would you say if I told you Socks will never be a barrel racer? He’s an old horse. He shouldn’t be ridden that hard. The ride you got out of him Thursday is about the best you can expect.”

“No, him good horse.”

“He’s a wonderful horse, and he loves you. But he isn’t capable of what you want him to do. If you push him it will eventually hurt him. It’ll make his knees hurt. That’s why Farley has him at the school. He’s too old for hard work so he does easy work with kids. Kids don’t weigh much. They’re a light load to bear. They ride slow and easy. You know other kids ride Socks, too. They ride like you used to, in figure eights, slowly doing weave poles. That’s the work Socks should be doing for his age.”

“No, Socks, good horse.” It was all she could let herself believe and I didn’t blame her.

“You’ve ridden Mack. What do you think of him? Do you think he could beat Socks?”

“Yes, Mack always beat Socks.”

“Even with lots of practice?”

She thought about that. Yeah, even with lots of practice she seemed to decide but she wouldn’t voice it.

“If you had a choice, to ride Socks or to ride Mack, which would you choose?”

“Chas! You no ask that! Me no choose! Me have no choose!” Her words got more jumbled the more upset she became.

“What if you did have a choice? Would you choose to ride Socks gently or would you choose to ride Mack around the barrels, maybe even learn to jump?”

“I…I…I no choose. Me can’t. Me love both.”

I gave Bailee a tearful hug. “Okay, I’m not asking you to choose. I’ve got my answer.”

 

“Farley I need an honest answer,” I said without preamble. “If you had a horse capable of doing barrel racing, would you let Bailee try it? I’ve got her up here at my parent’s ranch. She’s run the barrels. She can do it. If I could find a way to bring a horse down there for her to ride, would you let her do it?”

“Cassidy, you don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Yes I do, you don’t want Bailee to do barrel racing because it isn’t part of the image you want for your school. So what’s more important, your image? Or Bailee?”

“Cass…”

“This horse can jump. He’s ready for your better riders. He’s trained in everything you can think of. So, are you willing to forego your image to let some kids advance in their riding?”

“Cassidy…”

“I’m coming home tomorrow. My dad’s going to offer you a trade. He has two horses that are ready for riding. The only problem I can think of with either of them is one of them is fussy about his back hooves. Other than that, they can deal with kids, they can do the exercises, they’ll do jumping. They’ll do English or Western. One is twelve and the other is thirteen.”

“He wants to trade these two horses for Apache?”

“Yeah, he won’t do it unless it benefits Bailee.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Letting Bailee do barrel racing is what this deal hinges on?”

“Not really, but pretend it does.” Suddenly I had an idea. “Would it help if I emailed you some pictures?”

“Yeah.”

“Will do.”

 

“Mom! I need to see those pictures you’ve been taking.”

“What are you doing? Those were going to be a surprise for Bailee.”

“They still can be. I just need a few to send to Farley McGyver.”

I popped out the little memory card and slid it into the slot on my dad’s computer.

“How did you take a hundred and sixty pictures of one kid in one weekend?” I asked my mom. “I just need two or three that show Bailee doing barrel racing on Mack and Chet.”

“Bring up the thumbnails,” Mom suggested.

“What are you doing?” Rusty asked as he walked into the office.

“Strategizing,” I answered.

“Uh oh, I don’t like the sound of it.”

“Help me find a couple of pictures that will sway Farley to Bailee’s side.”

“Try this one,” Mom said and I double clicked to increase the size.

“Nope that’s Shasta.”

“What about this one?”

“As long as we’re going off these tiny pictures we’re going to be guessing. We might as well just look at them all big.”

We flipped through the pictures writing down numbers left and right. Mom was noting the pictures she wanted to scrapbook for Bailee. Rusty was writing down numbers he thought would sway Farley, plus a few he wanted for himself. I wrote down file numbers of pictures that I thought would impress Farley. Turned out we were all looking for different things.

“This one shows Chet’s form.”

“This one shows Bailee coming around the barrel. I like how the dust is flying. There’s real action in that picture.”

“Here’s one that shows Mack pretty good.”

“I like this one, it looks so peaceful.”

“She’s not even riding in that picture.”

“I know but it shows the bond between her and Mack. You can see she just wants to be there with him.”

“Rusty, you’re a guy. What is Farley thinking? Which would sway you?”

“First of all these pictures are for his information. Send him one of each horse that is strictly information. He will see the horses are sound, they are obeying their commands, they pay attention. Don’t send the picture that shows the dust flying. It’s not the image he wants for his school. Send the pictures that emphasize the control of the horse. This one is good. It makes it look like Bailee has control of the horse even though Mack’s galloping in the picture. See what I mean? He doesn’t mind speed he just doesn’t want his school to become a rodeo. So emphasize control. Then once you have his attention and he’s thinking this might be a good deal whop him one upside the head with the one of Bailee and Mack in the barn, where he can see into her eyes.”

I looked at Mom. Mom looked at me.

“Sounds like a plan,” I said.

“I’m still putting the barrel racing pictures in the scrapbook,” said Mom. “She’ll feel like she was a real barrel racer.”

“I feel like a traitor to men everywhere telling you to send that picture,” Rusty said. “It’s mean to do that to a guy.”

“I won’t tell him you suggested it.”

 

An hour after I hit the send button I got a call from Farley on my cell phone.

“Cassidy, that was a mean, cruel thing to do to a guy,” he said.

Ha, ha, it worked! I thought. “So, what do you think of the horses?” I asked.

“You’ve ridden these horses?”

“Many times.”

“How’s Apache coming?”

“I can ride him. He still spooks when he hears loud noises. I still give him five years to be settled down enough for your school. He’s too young to lead a quiet life. He needs a few years of rough and tumble training. He’s a man’s horse. These guys on the ranch will continue his training. It’s what they do every waking hour. They train horses for racing and working. They can take whatever Apache can dish out.”

“You say your Dad will be calling?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll be ready for him.”

“What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know.”

I had to be content with that so I went and found Bailee. She was in the barn talking to Mack.

“I no know what to do, Mack. Tomorrow I have go home. I no want to.” She stroked his blaze. “You good horse. You good for Ranny. Ranny say you good horse. He say you work har… I no wan go home. No wan go school. Kids be mean. You no mean.”

I wondered if this was the same conversation as the one in the picture I sent to Farley. Mack nuzzled Bailee’s pocket.

“I go get more,” she said and went to the barn office. She opened a little refrigerator and took out a carrot. I didn’t even know there was a refrigerator in there but Bailee did. She returned to Mack’s stall, “You have all carrots you want while I here,” she told him.

I started putting an English saddle on Shasta.

“Chas, what you do?”

“I want to show you something. Farley wanted you to start learning to ride English. I want to show you where that might lead.”

“Me no want ride fancy English.”

“It’s not fancy, it’s just more practical to use an English saddle for some activities.”

I walked Shasta out to the corral where I had set up some low jumps. Shasta had always enjoyed jumping. I even entered him in competition as a teenager but when I went off to boot camp our jumping days just about ended. I knew how Bailee felt leaving Mack behind because I had felt the same way turning my back on Shasta seven years ago. Had it really been that long?

“You don’t want to do this in a western saddle. The saddle is heavy. There is too much leather flapping around. It would be like trying to run track and jump hurdles wearing a carpenter’s belt. You want things sleek, light and easy to move in.”

I set Shasta up for the first low jump. He thought I was getting soft in my old age but I didn’t want to show Bailee more than Farley would let her do at the school, so the highest jump was only about three feet. I made a point of stopping and setting up for each jump even though I knew Shasta could manage the whole course in one smooth run. I wanted Bailee to take this seriously. When we moved on to jumps where Shasta’s feet had to actually leave the ground she began getting interested.

“You say Mizzur Mack let me do this?”

“Yeah, but you skipped learning to ride English. You’ll have to go back and start from scratch on the English riding before you can start jumping.”

“Me try now?”

“Sure, no jumping yet. The saddle feels different. You need to get used to the balance of it. You’ll need to work your way back up through the gaits. And even if you think you learned it here you will have to do it again for Farley.”

I figured if Bailee was going to push the rules she might be encouraged to push them in a direction that Farley would accept.

She didn’t like the English saddle at first. Most kids used to riding western felt unsettled on an English saddle. It felt high and the side to side movement was different. There was no horn on the saddle, although Bailee had been wisely taught not to use one. She was taught to ride sitting straight, hands on the reins or one hand on her thigh. So her balance was good.

“Chas,” she said from her high, slightly shaky perch, “jump in this saddle not safe.”

“Yes, it is. I just showed you. I just did it. Once you get used to riding English you will see. It just takes practice.”

And so we practiced and Bailee never did feel really secure in the saddle but she was working at something horsy and new and it held her interest.

“Me wish Mack jump,” she said.

“Mack knows how to do these jumps. He’s been taught almost everything there is to know.”

“Mack do this?”

“Yeah!”

“Chas, me no want go home. Me stay here. Work ranch.”

“You know you can’t do that.”

“Why? Ranny do it.”

“Randy didn’t have a choice. He didn’t have parents. He needed a place to live.”

“That how works? No mom, no dad.”

“Bailee, you have a family. They love you. They want you home. You can’t stay here. If we kept you here it would be kidnapping. It’s illegal.”

“But, I be sad. Leave Mack, leave dis your family.”

“You just have to remember, you got to visit my life for a little while but your life is different.”

“Why? Why be different?”

“Because, it’s what you were born to. When you grow up you can choose more what life you want to live, but as a kid you have to live the life of your family. I had to when I was a kid. When I got grown up I chose a different life, one that took me to Joshua Hills. That’s where I got to meet you. I was lucky, because I got to meet you. I’m glad I got to do that.”

“You no miss you family, you ranch, you horse?”

“Yeah, a little, but I like my life in Joshua Hills, too. I like teaching at the school. I like my job. I like my family there too.”

“Who your family Joshua Hills?”

“My family? The search and rescue team, the officers, the firemen, my friends, we’re like one big family. Rusty has a job there. It’s just home to me.”

Bailee rode and rode, her mind wandering, just enjoying being in the saddle. I didn’t push for more than just her being comfortable in the saddle. The more saddle time she got the more natural it would be when she had to concentrate on lessons.

“Okay, Bailee, we need to put Shasta back in his stall and wash up for dinner. Martha will be ringing the bell soon.”

“She always make big big supper?”

“Yeah, even when we’re not here.”

“She always make choc lat cake?”

“No, she made it because she knows you like it. She usually makes a pie or a cobbler.”

Bailee was moody at dinner. She knew it was her last dinner at the ranch. She looked around at all the faces, now familiar to her.

“Mister Godon?”

“Yes, Bailee?”

“How old workers dis you ranch?”

“Well, Bailee, they are all over twenty and right now we have all the trainers and jockeys we need.”

“Have to be twenty?”

“No, eighteen with experience training horses.”

“How you learn train horses?”

“That’s a problem. Most city kids don’t have a chance to learn how to train a horse. Good trainers are hard to find.”

“Me learn. I fine way.”

She went around the table.

“Mister Steve, how you learn train horses?”

“My dad worked a ranch in Montana. We lived in a little house kind of like James and Jesse do, so I had access to the ranch. I tagged along when he was working. He didn’t do much training, but I learned how horses think, and when problems came up I started thinking how I’d solve them. I guess I just had the right mind for the job. I could think like a horse.”

“James? How you do it?”

I was amazed Bailee was talking at all and here she was monopolizing the table.

“I don’t do much training. I do more of the hands on work of the ranch. I’m more of a hand. Me and Zack. Steve, Elan and Randy do most of the training. They decide what needs to be done and then we all do it together.”

I thought that was interesting. I knew James had worked here since Jesse and I were in high school. That’s how Jesse and James had met. But I’d always assumed he trained the horses, too.

“Elan? How you learn train horses?”

“My family raised horses. I grew up around them. Basically I was the same as Steve except I grew up in Arizona. I went to school on the reservation and helped with the horses after school.”

“Elan’s dad and his grandpa and his great grandpa were trackers!” Patrick said.

“Yes,” added Elan. “But tracking doesn’t put food on the table like it did in the old days.  So now we pass down tracking as a tradition. A skill. And the family raises horses.”

The talk continued on the various ways to live a ranch life but what it mostly boiled down to was that it was in the blood. Horse people were mostly born that way, which was discouraging to Bailee. She was not born to it and there was very little she could do about it.

“Mister Godon? How I ever learn train horse with hands don’t work?”

“Your hands do work. You eat, you write, you grip the reins,” Dad answered patiently. He wasn’t used to counseling young girls at the dinner table.

“They never be strong.” She thought for a few seconds, wanting to make a point but not having the words to do it. “Got to be strong to train horse. Strong people follow their hands, their strong mind. Takes two things. I have strong mind but can’t follow my hands. My hands. My hands want more. Want to be strong as my mind.”

Bailee did have a strong mind. It took a lot of strength to say as much as she did that night. I wished Farley could be there to see just how strong Bailee was becoming. She was no longer the timid child I had met my first day at the school. She was a girl with a purpose. She had confidence. If she would take the time to form sentences correctly she would be a kid others looked up to, instead of made fun of.

Each day at the ranch Bailee came up with a different cowgirl outfit that Mom had bought her. She insisted on wearing the white cowboy hat even though she didn’t need it. Her boots were already getting scuffed from constant work around the horses. She didn’t worry about the scuffs. She seemed to consider them to be experience marks. Real cowboys had worn boots. She wouldn’t be a real cowgirl until her boots showed it. So she worked hard in those boots. As I walked around the ranch I saw more of Bailee’s tracks than anyone else’s. She didn’t sit still for a minute. Even when I was off doing things with Rusty and Patrick and visiting with my mom and Jesse, Bailee had been with the horses.

Apache continued to be trainable, but he spooked easily. I was beginning to see a little progress in the normal noise of everyday life. He didn’t mind moving cars as long as they were quiet. Farley was going to have a long wait for this horse, though. Noise conditioning was something you couldn’t push. Push too hard and it backfired.

I was catching a few peaceful minutes with Rusty when Patrick ran up. He stood waiting to be acknowledged.

“Grandpa wants to see you,” he said.

“Okay, Pat, thanks for coming to get me,” I answered. It looked like Patrick had taken over my messenger boy job.

Oh boy, here we go, I thought. What had Farley decided?

 

I stepped into the doorway of Dad’s office with Bailee’s hopes in the balance.

“You sent for me?” I said and my dad looked up from his work.

“It’s time I called McGyver. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“It’s not what I want that counts. I want what’s best for Bailee and the horses and the ranch. I’m not going to pine away if Apache stays here. I know you’ll work with him and he’ll be happier here. If I end up taking him home I’ll continue working with him on my own.”

“And what about Bailee?”

“I don’t know what’s best for Bailee. She’s going to heartbroken to leave. She’ll be a little less heartbroken if Mack comes with us. But bringing Mack back forces her to make a choice she doesn’t want to make.”

“That girl’s got gumption. Most kids would be scared to ask me about the ranch. She’ll be a real handful pretty soon. Soon as she sees she has a chance at life she’s gonna take off after it and nothings gonna stop her. Them hands of hers. They can be straightened. She’s still young. The advances they have made. Her hands can be fixed. Her speech has improved just in the days she’s been here.”

“Her hands won’t be fixed. Her parents don’t have the money to do it. They did what they could after the crash. That’s it. It’s done.”

He pursed his lips, stared at his hands.

“Would Bailee like them fixed?”

“I don’t know, Dad. To be honest, even though her hands are a source of ridicule from the other kids and she hates it, standing up to it is part of what makes her Bailee.”

“But is she Bailee who can take anything? Or is she Bailee who would do anything to make it stop? It takes strength to take the ridicule but it also takes strength to take a risk on a new life. It has to be hard trying to do things with hands like that. What would she do with normal hands?”

“I don’t know. I hope she’d grab hold of life and haul for all it’s worth.”

“That’s your spirit talking. What do you think she would really do?”

“I don’t know, Dad. If it were possible, I’d be there to point her the way. I’d hand her the rope.”

“This reminds me of when you told me about Randy. Got the same tight pit in my stomach. Thinkin’ of a kid with their future on the line. I gotta tip it to the right. It’s a hangin’ there and if I just tip it. Maybe it’ll sway to the right and the kid can make a go of it. You, you never stood still long enough to feel a tip. Never could catch you long enough to point you. You’d head for the dangdest things and all I could do was warn all the hands to look out.”

I was beginning to see what Mom could see in him. Why did it take twenty-seven years for me to see it? And how was it that Rusty could see it all along?

“Sending Mack to the school won’t make Bailee normal. It’ll just give her more options.”

“Cassidy, what is it I got too much of around here?”

Pride was what came to mind first but I was beginning to doubt that now.

“Money,” he answered. “I got enough. Enough to tip that scale. Do you think Bailee’s parents would get the treatment done, if someone would pay for it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve barely seen her mom. I don’t know if she has a dad.”

He sighed. “I got connections. Maybe I’ll find a way so’s they don’t even know.”

This conversation was getting odder and odder. Next thing I knew he was on his computer. I was wondering if the conversation was at an end. Then he asked, “Where’s them pictures your mother took?”

“They’re in mypictures/betty/baileescrapbook.”

“Leave it to your mother to give me what I need.”

He clicked through the pictures until he found one that clearly showed Bailee’s bent hands. He inserted the picture into a short email to a friend.

“Don, think you can do something about this?” was all the message said.

“Who’s Don?”

“A surgeon in L.A. He bought a horse a few years ago. He bets on the races. He has a home near town. He gets around. Occasionally flies kids to hospitals across the country for treatments they need and can’t get up here. He’s got a heart for kids.”

I wasn’t sure what to think. I thought it was meddling in affairs that were not his own. But if it worked…

“Dad, I only brought Bailee here for a weekend of barrel racing. I didn’t plan on it being a life changing experience.”

“Now, there you go. You never know what’s going to turn into a life changing experience. Tell me what you were thinking when you went to the grocery store two years ago.”

Most people wouldn’t know what he was talking about but he was referring to the time I went grocery shopping and got carjacked. Rusty was the detective in search of the man who carjacked me. If it wasn’t for that trip to the grocery store I wouldn’t have met Rusty.

“I get your point,” I told Dad. “What do you want me to do? Should I talk to Farley first?”

“No, you run along. Watch around you. And be ready to hand over that rope you were talking about.”