A miracle. Just a small one. Or maybe a big one. Just this once...
“We’re running ahead of schedule.” Bob Marsh, longtime friend and fellow pilot, interrupted Lauren MacInnes’s silent prayer.
Early is good. They were on a tight timetable. Lauren’s fingers twisted together as she looked out the window of the four-seat Beechcraft that Bob and three of his air force friends owned. It was good to be in the air again but she ached to be at the controls of the plane. It had been a month since she piloted one.
But it was Bob’s plane, and she’d made a promise to her daughter that she wouldn’t fly again. She hadn’t said anything about not being a passenger.
“Tell me more about this program,” Bob said. “This was rather sudden, wasn’t it?”
“It’s a month-long equine therapy program for kids of fallen soldiers, especially those with physical or emotional problems,” she replied. “Patti suggested it several weeks ago. Problem was the slots were filled, then two days ago someone dropped out and there was an opening. It begins in three weeks. I wanted to check it out before mentioning it to Julie.”
“How did Patti learn about it? By the way, my wife thinks she’s terrific.”
“So do I. Patti’s part of the family now. I don’t know what I’ll do when she goes back to graduate school. She’s been a godsend since I found her through our doctor.”
Lauren thought about the months Patti had worked for them. Lauren had hired her as a temporary caregiver for Julie after her daughter’s second surgery. It had worked so well, she’d stayed for the next nine months while Lauren finished her military commitment. Patti was a student in physical therapy and was taking as many online courses as possible before returning to the campus.
“I thought I was getting someone temporarily to stay with Julie—instead, I found a friend who’s great with her.” She sighed. “But to answer your question, she’s related to the ranch owner in some extended way—like a second cousin once removed or something—and worked at the ranch after high school graduation. It’s one reason she’s studying physical therapy.
“Time,” Lauren added, “is crucial, which is why I shanghaied you. I can’t send Julie someplace I’ve never seen.” She hesitated, then added, “Something has to bring Julie out of her depression. I haven’t been able to do it. She was so close to Dane. Worst thing is she still blames herself for his death.”
“It was a drunk driver,” Bob said.
“I know that, and you know that, but she believes that if she hadn’t asked Dane to stop for ice cream after winning that regional meet, they wouldn’t have been on that road. Therapy hasn’t helped much. Neither has the fact that she doesn’t know if she will ever walk normally again.”
“The poor kid sure has had it rough,” he said. “So have you. I wish there was more Sue and I could have done.”
“You two were there when we needed you,” Lauren replied. “As well as now.”
“How much do you know about this program?”
“Not as much as I would like to know,” she said. “I consulted with Julie’s orthopedist and the psychologist at the military hospital. The psychologist was already familiar with equine therapy and checked out this program. All the feedback was positive. I did what research I could find on equine therapy in the past few days, but I need more information.”
“What does Julie think about it?”
“I haven’t mentioned it to her yet. The ranch uses wild mustangs in the program, and I’m not too sure about that. Couldn’t that be dangerous? And how would she mount a horse with that brace?”
He didn’t reply for a moment, then asked, “Any movement with the foot yet?”
“No, but the doctor said it could take weeks before we know whether the last operation was successful.”
“Well, if anyone can make it happen, it’s Julie,” Bob replied.
“The old Julie could. I’m not sure about this one. She’s so discouraged, it breaks my heart. She sits there for hours just willing that darn toe to move and there’s no movement.”
He nodded. He and his wife, Sue, had been at the hospital the night of the accident and stayed by Julie’s side until Lauren arrived. They had been with Lauren during subsequent operations.
“It’s so damn frustrating, Bob,” Lauren said. “She has to teach a muscle to do what the nerve did. Her orthopedist told her to concentrate on moving the toes and warned that some patients never learn to do it. If it is successful, she’ll have some control over the ankle and foot. Otherwise, the foot will just drop. It would be an impediment. Amputation could be the next step.”
“Wow,” he said. “I didn’t know it was that tough.”
Lauren shrugged. “I know how busy you are with this new promotion. Sue’s been terrific, and I love her for it. She’s always bringing books and small gifts to Julie, and I can’t thank you enough for ferrying me here today.” She paused, then confessed, “I’m not even sure whether I really want her to do this program. I don’t want her to fail. Or, God forbid, get injured again.” Her voice broke and she hated that. She didn’t cry. Warriors didn’t cry.
Except she wasn’t a warrior any longer. Nor a very good mom. She just couldn’t reach her daughter. She’d almost given up on miracles when Patti suggested they try equine therapy for Julie.
It seemed far-fetched in the beginning. Julie might be able to walk but only with crutches and a brace. How could she ride a horse? Then Lauren went online and researched equine therapy. There did seem to be miracles.
But mustangs?
That part of it worried her. Something, however, had to change. The fifteen months since the accident had been a continuous nightmare. The worst had been telling her daughter her father was dead. Then she had to tell Julie that her leg had been crushed. It was a question of whether they could save it. It still was.
It hadn’t helped that Lauren had a dangerous occupation, one that ended a month ago when she’d completed her current service commitment. After her compassionate and accrued leave ended, she’d been transferred to Lackland Air Force Base near San Antonio where she was an instructor.
When she’d fulfilled her commitment, she resigned.
She really had no choice. Other than burying her husband, leaving the air force was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She’d spent most of her life dreaming of being an air force pilot, working to be a pilot, then being a pilot. But Julie had to come first. Her daughter had been terrified she would lose her mother as well as her dad and begged Lauren not to re-up. There was no other family. No siblings, or grandparents. No one. It was just the two of them now.
As if reading her mind, Bob glanced over at her. “It’s been hell for you, hasn’t it?”
“Worse for Julie,” she said. “She adored Dane. I’m an adult. I’ve learned to survive loss. She’s only fifteen and she’s had to deal with losing her father and the guilt that she somehow is responsible for it. She’s also lost her lodestone, the challenge that drove her so hard.” Her daughter had been an athlete who dreamed of competing in the Olympics, and her injuries were devastating to who and what she’d been.
Bob nodded. He’d been to some of the track competitions in Texas while Lauren was in Germany. Julie won each one. Lauren knew Julie had inspired his own children to compete.
“I’m hoping, no, make that praying, this program could help her heal emotionally,” Lauren said. “She’s always loved animals, and Dane and I never felt we could have one since we never knew where we would be assigned next.”
“We’re approaching the descent,” Bob announced. “It sure looks like scenic country down there.”
“Patti showed me some photos. It’s breathtaking. The Eagles’ Roost Ranch is one of the few large family-owned ranches left in Colorado.”
“Eagles’ Roost? I like the name.”
“I do, too,” she said. She recalled every word Patti had said when she first recommended it after Julie had a particularly bad day.
“Know anything about this family?” he asked.
“There’s apparently just the owner, his sister and her son. Patti warned me that sometimes the owner comes across as impatient, or even rude. In addition to running the ranch, he teaches horsemanship and even makes videos used as teaching tools. Comes by the talent honestly, according to Patti, since he’s one fourth Ute. They were considered among the best horsemen of the western tribes.”
“Sounds interesting anyway,” Bob said.
“And too good,” Lauren said darkly. She’d gotten the opinion that her employee and friend had ulterior purposes, like playing cupid.
Bob chuckled. “Anything else?”
“According to her, the ranch has been in his family since Colorado was settled. His father had a bad accident when he was twenty and in his second year at the University of Colorado School of Agriculture. He dropped out and has been running the ranch since.”
She omitted the rest of Patti’s description: He’s the tall, silent type. Sometimes Reese comes across as curt, but he’s a really nice guy once you get to know him.
“Any reason he’s offering this program?” Bob asked.
“I asked the same thing. According to Patti, he’s passionate about saving wild mustangs, especially after he learned they usually respond well to emotionally and physically wounded children and vice versa. He started exploring possibilities. This is the fourth year he’s sponsored programs for them.”
“Sounds like an interesting guy,” Bob said. “Married?”
She shrugged. When a year passed since Dane’s death, Bob and Sue tried to get her to mix more with fellow pilots. She wasn’t interested. Julie was all that mattered now. Not only that, this Reese Howard probably had a wife and six kids. She hadn’t asked, and Patti hadn’t offered more information.
She looked down at the scenery below. The plains had been replaced by the foothills. The roads below were winding, and the structures farther and farther apart as they approached the local airstrip.
Bob glanced at his watch. “The wind’s been with us,” he said. “We’re going to be there early.” They’d left San Antonio at 7:00 a.m. and they’d guessed their arrival would be around eleven-thirty for the noon meeting.
Her plan was to stay no more than three hours, hopefully more like two. That would get them back home before dark.
After a smooth landing, Bob parked the plane and went to make arrangements to refuel it for their return to San Antonio that afternoon. She walked to the small, nearly empty building to check on a rental car she’d ordered yesterday. The one person at the desk inside the small building told her it had arrived and gave her the keys and paperwork.
She checked her watch. They were on time. Sally Reynolds, sister of the owner, had offered to pick them up, but Lauren preferred the independence of renting a car since she wasn’t sure when they would land. She hadn’t been sure she could rent one here but obviously if you paid enough, you could rent anything, anytime, anywhere.
This “anything” was an elderly Jeep, but it was clean inside and when she started it, it ran well.
As she waited for Bob, she glanced at the information she’d acquired about the Eagles’ Roost Ranch and its equine therapy program, Junior Ranchers. She’d made a list of questions she wanted to ask and started to review them.
The military had taught her to be prepared and be on time; two rules she tried never to break.
Reese Howard swore as he looked ahead at the line of traffic. He was late. He hated being late for anything. It had been ingrained in him as a child. You don’t keep people waiting on you.
Especially if they were coming six hundred or more miles.
An accident on the main highway from the mustang sale in Wyoming had slowed traffic to a crawl. For the past three hours he’d followed a long line of cars, trucks and even a bus or two over an alternate route. After leaving the main flow he still had to drive fifty miles over a winding two lane road. Not fun when he was hauling four terrified horses and a cantankerous, and vocal, burro for seven hours.
Problems started at the mustang auction in Wyoming. He’d gone to buy four new mustangs for the program that had become so important to him. One for each of the incoming kids. The sale had dragged on, and he’d had a confrontation with another bidder over a black mare. He won that battle and paid far more than the usual one hundred and twenty-five dollars per mustang just off the range, but he’d liked her spirit. It was obvious from her eyes she was frightened, but she still stood defiant.
He’d already selected three other mares, but he really wanted the black one. Properly bred, she could produce some great colts and fillies.
And the burro? No one wanted him. The Bureau of Land Management wanted to get rid of him. Now he was kicking up a storm in his horse trailer and further frightening the mustangs, if that was possible.
He’d purchased the lot for nine hundred dollars. The burro was thrown in free. Reese still wasn’t quite sure why he accepted the offer. Burros always created chaos, but this one looked so damn forlorn as he stood isolated among his larger relatives. Darn if he hadn’t reminded Reese of a burro he’d had as a kid.
He was eager to return to Eagles’ Roost. The mustangs weren’t used to being confined in a small space and were nervous. No. Petrified was the right word. In the past few days, they’d been driven from public range into pens by helicopters, then separated from the herd that had protected them since they were born.
The plan was to train and sell them to good homes at top prices while helping veterans and their kids at the same time. It also meant four less mustangs would starve in hostile environments or be sold and resold to questionable buyers.
He looked ahead at the blocked road again, tried his cell again—still no service—and uttered a few more choice words.