Home on the Ranch--Colorado Rancher Page 3

  “Fine. There’s usually a healthy competition but these kids come from military families and are used to moving and making new friends. We talked about having all-girl and all-boy programs but then that would limit availability. So far it’s worked well. They all have similar problems.

  “We’re very careful, though,” she added. “The girls live in the house, the boys in the bunkhouse. In addition to the stables and an outside ring, we have a barn for storage and as a second riding ring in bad weather. We also have cameras throughout the property, and not only because of the program. Cattle rustling is still alive these days.”

  “And the mustangs?” Lauren asked as Sally refilled her glass with lemonade. The mustangs had been a major concern.

  “There’s nothing to worry about there,” Sally said. “It’s a matter of the kids talking to the horses from a safe distance. Maybe reading or singing to them. The kids prepare the horses for training by interacting with them, then watch as our horsemen start the training and finally become part of it. We’ve discovered the horses are far less nervous when ‘their’ person is present.”

  They finished the stew, and apple pie came next. Lauren was going to refuse but it smelled too good. It certainly was much better than her reheated frozen pies. If this was an example of what was served to the kids, she had no worries about the food aspect of the program.

  When they finished lunch, Sally showed Lauren a scrapbook full of photos of previous participants and gave Lauren their parents’ phone numbers if she wanted to check with them. “They’ve given us permission,” she assured Lauren as she led Lauren and Bob to the room Julie would stay in. After that they went to the stable.

  “Can I take photos with my cell?” Lauren asked.

  “Sure. Anything you want,” Sally said as she opened the door and led them down the aisle of stalls. Only a few stalls were occupied. “These are several of the riding horses used in the program,” she said as they passed stalls. “Right here we have Snowflake, Anna Banana, Patches and Bandit, because of the black patches around his eyes. All are mustangs and were wild when they came to us. Now they’re well-mannered saddle horses.”

  There was no mistaking Snowflake, who stuck out her head and whinnied a welcome. She was snow-white except for a few patches of black on her legs.

  “She wants a carrot.” Sally said. “There’s some in that bucket near the door. Can you get four of them?”

  Lauren did as requested. She gave two to Bob and they offered a carrot to each horse. Lauren started with Snowflake, who took a carrot gingerly and nuzzled Lauren’s hand by way of thanks. She went to the next horse, a pinto named Patches, according to the sign attached to the door.

  Just as they finished presenting the last carrot to Anna Banana, Sally’s cell sang a happy tune, and she answered it. “Reese is coming through the gate. Would you like to see the unloading of the mustangs?”

  Chapter 3

  It was well after 1:00 p.m. when Reese reached the ranch, an hour late for his appointment with Mrs. MacInnes. As he drove slowly into the corral area, his foreman, Chet Hunter, jumped into the cab with him. “All set, boss. Food and water are in the paddock. The gate is open and the guys are ready to close it as soon as the horses are inside.”

  As Reese backed through the first gate, two hands closed it and followed the truck as Reese backed up to the second gate. Just as the rear of the trailer was inside the paddock, two ranch hands opened the back of the trailer and jumped out of the way as the horses hesitated, then, led by the black mare, charged out of the trailer and started galloping madly around the paddock. The burro stood in the middle, braying his annoyance over the situation.

  Reese drove forward while the cowhands quickly closed the second gate. Chet jumped out of the cab and opened the first gate while Reese drove the trailer to the parking area.

  He stepped out of the truck, and he and Chet went over to the paddock where the newcomers galloped madly around, trying desperately to find a way to escape. They would soon find the food and water already placed inside their new home and hopefully relax. The burro started to complain. It brayed. A very loud braying.

  Reese still had no idea why he’d included the burro. But damn it, the little guy reminded him of Trouble, a burro his family owned when he was a kid. The name had been well-earned.

  Chet looked at him. “A burro?”

  “They threw him in for free.”

  Chet looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Boss, I know you like to save money but he’s not exactly...free.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret if you keep it that way.”

  Chet’s eyes widened. “Hell, yeah.”

  “I kind of like burros,” Reese admitted.

  “No one likes burros. They’re loud and bad-tempered.”

  “A moment of weakness,” Reese said with a grin.

  Reese gave a sigh of relief. The transfer from truck to paddock was always the most dangerous part of the process of bringing mustangs to the ranch, thus the double gates. He tried to bring them in at least three weeks before the equine therapy participants arrived. They would be calm enough then for the kids to work with them. At a safe distance.

  His work would begin this afternoon, the long process of convincing the horses they had nothing to fear.

  The kids would help and he’d watch them glow when a mustang took their first carrot from them, or immediately came over to the fence when they approached.

  It was then he saw the woman and man walking toward him with Sally. Reese’s attention went to the woman. She was a little taller than average. Athletic body. Short red hair—or was it copper?—framed a strong face. Watchful moss green eyes studied him. The man with her was of average height, a little shorter than his companion.

  Reese took it all in within seconds before reaching out his hand. “Mrs. MacInnes, or is it Major MacInnes?”

  “It’s Lauren,” she said as she clasped his hand in a firm handshake. “The major part ended a month ago.” She paused, then added, “This is a friend, Major Bob Marsh. He flew me up from Texas.”

  Reese shook hands with him. “Welcome to Eagles’ Roost. I apologize for being late, but an accident on the route slowed me up.”

  She glanced at the now closed doors of the stable. “It looked dangerous getting them into the paddock.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That from a fighter pilot?”

  “Planes don’t kick and bite.”

  “But they get fired on,” he said, “or run out of gas or have an electronic malfunction.”

  “Not if you know what you’re doing.”

  “My point exactly,” he said with a slight twist of his lips that might, just might, have been a smile. “I know what I’m doing. Just takes time and patience.”

  “Same thing about planes,” she battled back.

  “I suppose they both require respect,” he said.

  “And understanding,” Lauren added.

  They were sparring with each other, conversation snapping between them. Their eyes met for what seemed a long time. An odd recognition flashed between them. It unnerved him and, he immediately sensed, did the same with her.

  He didn’t want more complications in his life. He was balancing balls like crazy. He didn’t have time for a fleeting affair. Still, he guided her away from her companion and his sister and returned to the paddock where he could better observe the mustangs.

  “You didn’t bring your daughter with you,” he said.

  “No. I wanted to be sure it was...suitable before springing it on her. She’s had a hard time. I didn’t want to convince her into doing something that might be another disappointment.”

  “Whether or not it works depends on her,” Reese said shortly. Damn it, he was tired and wanted nothing more than a glass of bourbon and a few hours of sleep. He didn’t want to cross words with someone who was altogether
too...attractive for his own good. He was willing to be pleasant but the suitable comment sort of got to him.

  “We usually like more information and interviews,” he continued with an edge in his voice. “But Patti was persuasive. If your daughter is eager to learn, she’ll probably love it. Most kids do, after the first couple of days. There’s usually a lot of fear in the beginning. It fades quickly and most fall in love with the horses within several days. But some do drop out. We don’t promise miracles.”

  She raised an eyebrow, probably due to the impatience in his voice. “A miracle would be nice,” she said, “but I’m not greedy. A smile would be a step forward.” She paused, then asked, “How much did Patti tell you?”

  “That a drunk driver killed your husband and badly injured your daughter, and that she’s having a difficult time adjusting. She said both you and your husband were air force pilots, and that you were resigning your commission to be with her.” He paused, seemed to weigh her, then added, “I expect that was difficult.”

  “It was and is,” she admitted. “But it had to be done. I’m the only family she has now.” She changed the subject. “Did Patti tell you that Julie was a runner, had just won a major race the night of the accident? That she blames me for being overseas at the time and herself for wanting to come back to the States and even for suggesting an ice cream the night of the crash?”

  She stopped, shocked that the words had tumbled out. “I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “I don’t usually sound off like that. It’s just... I’m not used to...”

  “Not being in control,” he said. “I get it. I’ve been there.” And he did know that feeling of helplessness. He knew it well. He’d felt it when he left Ag school midterm and suddenly became responsible for a ranch with thousands of cattle and forty employees, and then again twelve years later. He knew it only too well.

  “Nothing to be sorry about. You and your daughter have a right to grieve. And be angry.”

  “Julie had such big dreams,” Lauren said. “She was convinced she would make the Olympics in track and, frankly, she might have had a shot. She was that fast. Now she’s not only lost a father she adored but also the dream they’d shared. She’s still in a cast but that should be gone before coming here. She will have a brace, though. Would that be a problem?”

  “Again, it depends on her. If she wants to be here, no. We’ve had amputees here and two kids in wheelchairs. We’ve chosen our smartest and gentlest horses for this program and purchased equipment that will help the handicapped to mount. We have a horse that lies down while a rider boards her if necessary, and Sally can help with any exercises that are needed,” he added. “I’m glad you met her. She’s the heart and brains of this program in addition to bringing up a teenage son alone.”

  “Doesn’t he have you?” she asked.

  “An uncle isn’t the same as a father.” He saw the question in her eyes and was grateful her curiosity seemed to stop there.

  “And the mustangs?” she asked. “Aren’t they dangerous?”

  “They’re scared. Horses are prey animals. They seem to understand from the moment they’re born that almost every other living thing wants to eat them. That includes man. They are usually born in the evening and are expected to run the next morning if necessary. It’s nature’s way of preserving the species. These horses probably had never seen a human being before a machine came from out of the sky and drove them from freedom into fences where they were separated from the herd that protected them since birth.”

  He knew he was being defensive, that he was lecturing, but he usually became incensed at the way the government was treating the wild horse population. That was not why she was here, though. She wanted to be assured her child wouldn’t be injured.

  “Why?” she asked, real interest in her voice.

  “They usually seek out places that are uninhabited but they might wander too close to a farm or ranch and complaints are made to the US Department of Land Management. Then helicopters come in and drive the terrified animals to government-owned land, then to auctions.”

  “That doesn’t sound right,” she said, obviously identifying with the horses.

  “I wish more people would agree,” he said. “They are sold cheap and some buyers don’t care what happens to them. The worse ones send them out of the country for horse meat. It’s against the regulations but that doesn’t mean much to some people. Some go to rodeos. Some go to legit buyers. We train them and make sure they go to good homes or we keep them for our own stock.”

  He stopped himself, then took a deep breath. “But to answer your question, the participants in our program won’t be alone with a mustang, or even close to one until we’re sure it’s safe. Safety is our first concern,” he continued. “We’ve never had a serious accident here.”

  He tried a smile through his weariness. He’d been up for three days with only a few hours of sleep. He rarely had much on such a trip. It had been a long drive to the auction, then a day of evaluating the horses and completing the paperwork involved, and finally loading terrified horses into his trailer before the long drive back.

  As attractive—and interesting—as Lauren MacInnes was, he wanted to get back to the mustangs. Hopefully, they would have located the food and water by now. But he’d realized quickly his visitor needed reassurance. A lot of it.

  He liked her for that. He would have felt the same way if his son had lived.

  “When I heard about the program,” she said, “I started reading books about equine therapy. I was surprised at the number and variety of programs being offered now.”

  “Because they work,” he said. “There’s something about horses that influences human behavior in a positive way. Maybe because they are so accepting. In the herd, they take care of the young and elderly. When gentled they do the same with humans. They don’t abandon them as most species do when trouble approaches.

  “Those scenes in Western films when the rider is injured, and the horse stays with him, well, they’re accurate,” he continued. “After these horses understand that humans won’t hurt them, you give them a carrot and they think you’re wonderful. It does great things for morale, particularly for a kid who feels no one understands.”

  He stopped. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I’ll get off my soapbox. What else do you want to know?”

  “Your sister introduced us to some of the riding horses—Snowflake, Patches, Anna Banana and Bandit.”

  “They were named by the kids in the first session,” he said with a grin. “We promised we would keep them, and it was much to the chagrin of my cowhands who ride them the other eleven months of the year. They prefer names like Thunder and Outlaw. Not a cowboy alive wants to ride a horse named Snowflake or Anna Banana. But then I suspect you know the breed.”

  She smiled for the first time. A real smile in those gorgeous eyes. “You think there was a wee bit of mischief involved in the naming?” she asked.

  “I do,” he replied. “I suspect pilots are a lot like cowboys, but a promise is a promise.”

  Her smile broadened. “I think you’re right on both counts,” she admitted.

  “How far did you come today?” she asked.

  “Couple of hundred miles. Usually six hours with the trailer. Today it was eight. I hope it didn’t mess up your schedule.”

  “Are they always in the same place?”

  “No,” he replied. “The sales are spread throughout the country, even in the South and eastern US. Whenever there’s one within three hundred miles, I attend. Most mustangs go for a hundred and twenty-five dollars but some fine-looking ones go to auction. The black mare was one of them.”

  “I would like to go to one sometime.”

  He raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Easy to do. Just go to the Bureau of Land Management website. As I said, the sales move around the country. There’s several held in Texas.

&n
bsp; “Has Sally given you anything to eat?” He switched topics abruptly as he guided her back to where Bob stood talking to Sally.

  “She did, and a fine lunch it was,” Bob interjected. “I’m going to send my wife up here for cooking instructions.”

  One question was answered.

  When he first saw the two together, he’d wondered if there was something between them. But apparently a flight up here was no more than offering a friend a ride to the grocery store for pilots. He had no idea why the thought that they might be more than friends bothered him. The last thing he needed now was an attractive woman with the greenest of eyes. “We feed a lot of people on the ranch, and they leave if the food’s not good,” Reese added. “We have a great cook.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t give you much notice. But we should leave within the next hour. We want to get back to San Antonio before dark.”

  “Have you ever ridden horses?” He included both in the question again.

  “No, although I’ve piloted some planes that felt like a bronc,” she said while her companion shook his head.

  Reese was intrigued. He hadn’t known what to expect when told about her visit. Sally had made all the arrangements and had told him Mrs. MacInnes had been all business, even abrupt and obviously dubious about the program. Now he was discovering a quirky sense of humor when she allowed herself to relax.

  “Sally also showed me the rooms she would share with another girl.”

  “Jenny Jacobs. She’s shy but excited.”

  “Exactly how does it work, once she gets here?” Lauren asked.

  “When your daughter arrives, if she decides to come, she’ll pick one of our trained horses you saw earlier in the stables on the left side of the house.”

  “Snowflake?” Lauren said impishly.

  He grinned. “We’ll see. We try to let the kids pick their horse. But I’ll be sure she has one that will work for her and her leg, and we also have steps that can help.”

  He went on, while Sally continued to chat with Bob. “She’ll also get a female buddy—one of our young female ranch hands—who will stay with her throughout the program. She’s there as a friend to answer questions, teach basic horsemanship and root her on.