The garden was designed to give the children something to care for and nurture while they were at the ranch. Lauren loved how Kim and her staff were always coming up with ways to help point hurting kids toward hope. What seemed like a simple garden could so easily become a springboard for a conversation about the importance of being firmly rooted, the patience of a gardener, or how growth takes time. Yes, a garden was a great idea.
Lauren reached paddock two and stopped for a moment. A familiar fear gripped her. What will I find today? Would Speckles let her come in? Or would his pain say Keep your distance?
How her heart broke for this horse, this broken horse who was helping her feel whole. This horse who was teaching her things about herself—teaching her how to deal with her own pain.
He was standing near a tall stump in the middle of the field with Joey guarding his flank several feet away. Lauren’s heart dropped. Another distance day.
As she called a greeting, Speckles looked at her. Not with wild eyes, not with a warning, but with . . . what? Lauren leaned over the fence, straining to see. His eyes found hers. He looked at her with what she could only interpret as longing. Did he want her close by? Only one way to find out.
She released the latch on the gate and entered the paddock. Joey’s head turned toward her, his ears following her movement. Speckles’ eyes honed in on her, following her every step.
“Hey, bud.” She spoke softly, reverently. “How are you today?”
She lifted her hand to stroke his neck, to express the love that filled her heart. He jerked away, fear in his eyes. He couldn’t receive her touch.
She lowered her hand as her throat tightened up. Lord, she started to pray silently. No other words came. Should she leave him? Should she stay?
Joey made a low, mournful nickering sound. Speckles didn’t move. Joey’s head tilted to the side as if trying to decide if he could come any closer. He did not.
“Oh, Speckles,” Lauren lamented. “What can I do for you?”
A sharp pain shot through her knee, causing it to jerk involuntarily. She steadied herself by putting her hand on the tree stump. Not now, Lord. Please don’t let my pain keep me from being here for Speckles.
Whiskers tickled her hand. A brown-and-white muzzle pressed into her hand. Speckles was touching her, breathing on her! His black eyes searched her face, the light in them quickly fading. As if someone were closing a curtain. At once she knew. Deep in her heart, as if spoken directly to her soul, she knew what was happening. Somehow, someway she knew that this was good-bye.
But he was still young—only seven years old! He would recover, right? She choked back a sob. I cannot lose it right now. He needed her, and she would be there for him. It was the least she could do. It took every ounce of restraint, but she did not touch him. Instead she just stood there, talking softly to the horse whose chin rested on her hand.
“Oh, my speckled love,” she whispered. “You have suffered so much on this earth, but soon you will suffer no more. Soon you will run free in a place of eternal beauty and goodness.”
Lauren knew many people didn’t believe that animals went to heaven, but the Bible specifically mentioned Jesus coming back to earth on a horse. The book of Revelation described lions and lambs lying down together, and so she chose to believe that heaven would be full of animals—animals free to live as God created them, free from the effects of sin.
Speckles’ lips tickled her hand.
“Apples, carrots, hay! You will have an eternal supply of all your favorites.”
His whiskers fluttered like butterfly kisses on her hand.
“You will be free. But I will miss you . . .”
Tears silently rolled down her cheeks. Speckles lifted his chin off her hand. The spell had been broken. Lauren straightened her back and rubbed her knee. Speckles slowly made his way to the hay box with Joey following from a respectable distance.
Lauren turned to look for Sarah. She needs to know about Speckles. Lauren just couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been telling her good-bye.
The moment she saw Sarah, Lauren heard Speckles fall. His legs had buckled beneath him, driving him to the ground. As if surrendering to the pain, he lay on his side, not even trying to rise.
Lauren heard someone yell for help. It was her own voice. She ran to Speckles’ side. His eyes, full of pain and trust, looked up at her. His meds. Her mind raced. He needs his pain meds.
“I’ll be right back, Speckles. Right back,” she repeated, heading toward the tack shed where oral syringes of his meds were kept.
“Joey,” she said, “stay with him.”
Joey lowered his head, sniffed Speckles, and bumped his side. He obediently stood vigil.
“Good boy, Joey,” she called out as she hurried from the paddock, nearly colliding with Sarah.
“Speckles is down! I’m going to get his pain meds,” Lauren explained, continuing to run.
The pain in her knee was all but forgotten as she grabbed the syringe, yelled for one of the volunteers to get the trailer ready for a transport to the vet, and raced back to Speckles. Sarah was on the ground with him.
“Okay, bud, let’s get this medicine in you so we can get you to the vet,” she said, holding the liquid-filled syringe up to his mouth.
He took it without a fight.
“I just gave him enough for a Clydesdale,” Lauren said to Sarah, stepping away from Speckles. “Hopefully, it will take effect soon.”
Lauren filled Sarah in on what had transpired before she arrived. Sarah closed her eyes. She kept shaking her head as if it were all too much. It was. The midmorning sun warmed Lauren’s face as she waited for any sign that Speckles’ pain was lessening. “We need to let Kim know.” Lauren pulled out her phone and called.
“We’ll get him there,” she said, after Kim told her that she would call Dr. Gallagher. “Tell them we’ll be there as soon as we can. And . . .” She hesitated before adding, “Tell them that he is in really bad shape.” Her voice caught on the last few words.
Several minutes passed with no apparent change in Speckles’ condition. But then a leg straightened and then another. He thrashed his head. Made one attempt to stand, and then another. Finally, he was up.
“Okay, Joey,” Sarah called, clucking her tongue.
Joey stayed close to his pasture-mate. Speckles was less than steady, but at least he was standing.
“I forgot to tell the volunteers to hook the trailer to my truck,” Lauren said.
Sarah nodded. “Speckles is okay for the moment. Let’s go help get the trailer attached.”
The two women jogged over to the parking lot to inform the other volunteers of the plan. Lauren was suddenly grateful that she had been having car trouble this morning, because she’d had to borrow her husband’s truck—a vehicle large enough to handle the trailer.
The handful of volunteers hooked up the trailer quickly, and Lauren and Sarah returned to the paddock to get Speckles. They stopped short of the gate. Joey and Speckles stood facing each other, engaged in what almost looked like a dance. Joey pranced forward while Speckles took several steps back. Then they reversed the roles. Their heads rubbed against each other, muzzles bumping and manes tangling. They pawed at the ground and let loose several loud neighs. They were . . . playing.
“How much of that stuff did you give Speckles again?” Sarah asked.
“Apparently enough,” Lauren answered, her heart swelling with a mixture of joy and pain.
They look so happy and content. Lauren was the first to enter the field. She walked up to Speckles like she had so many times before and put a halter on him. She secured it around his head. Joey was no help whatsoever, nuzzling Speckles and pushing against Lauren’s hand.
Joey positioned himself between Speckles and Lauren. Lauren tried to get around Joey, but the determined horse blocked her move. Sarah stepped through the gate and walked over to Joey.
“Hey, Joey,” she called out, her voice sounding much lighter than Laure
n knew she felt. “Bud, we’ve got to let Speckles go,” she said, quickly adding, “to the doctor. We need to let him go to the doctor, okay?”
Sarah rubbed Joey’s neck. She started to walk toward the middle of the field in hopes that Joey would follow. He did not. Sarah pulled a treat from her pocket, and Joey moved toward her, finally leaving Speckles’ side. Lauren quickly led Speckles through the gate.
Sarah lingered a moment with Joey. Acutely aware that his pasture-mate was gone, Joey stomped the ground and let out a whinny. Speckles nickered back from outside the fence. Joey trotted to the gate and waited for Sarah to take him, too. Waited for someone to remove the obstacle that was keeping him from Speckles.
Lauren tried to swallow the lump in her throat. I have to get Speckles to the trailer. She forced one foot in front of the other, each step releasing one more tear. Unable to move past Joey standing guard at the gate, Sarah shimmied through the fence rails. Lauren risked one last glance at Joey. A gut-wrenching cry from him nearly broke her heart.
She swallowed her own cry. Oh, Joey. I am so sorry.
Speckles loaded onto the trailer easily. Thankfully, between the large dose of painkillers and a handful of carrots, he had walked up the ramp as if it were a part of his daily routine. The women drove in silence to the clinic.
Kim’s car was already in the parking lot when they arrived. She and Barb, along with several vet technicians, met Lauren and Sarah to off-load Speckles.
Lauren provided more details to Kim as they all followed Speckles to a stall where an IV was started. The four from Hope Reins watched him for a moment before going to a small waiting room.
Thirty minutes later Dr. Gallagher came in. His face was somber.
“Ladies, I am so sorry, but there is nothing more we can do for him,” he said quietly.
Lauren grabbed Sarah’s hand.
“His conditions have escalated to the point that they are more than his broken body can overcome. I believe we have no choice left but to let him go.”
Lauren’s mind fought against the words she was hearing.
“I know this is hard, but it’s what is best for Speckles,” she heard him say. The words sounded so far away, even though Dr. Gallagher was right next to her.
“But you are the ones who make the final decision. We can send him home with large doses of painkillers and anti-inflammatories. It won’t cure him, but it will hopefully keep him comfortable during his last few days.”
Kim looked at Barb, Sarah, and Lauren. “What do you think?”
No one answered. Sarah pulled at the neck of her shirt. Barb wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“We have to let him go,” Lauren said, breaking the awful silence. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her face seemed on fire. “It’s time.”
“I agree,” Kim said, grabbing Lauren’s hand. “Sarah? Barb? We have to make this decision together.”
“Yes,” they both whispered.
Dr. Gallagher nodded. It was time to say good-bye.
I can’t breathe, Sarah thought. I need to leave and get some air. But she couldn’t leave Speckles—he was resting now, so calm and trusting. A flood of memories washed over her. Memories of being scared of the unusual-looking, biting, kicking horse. Memories of him charging Joey during feeding time, and of Lauren wagging her finger in his face, reprimanding him like a child, telling him to share.
She remembered the first time Speckles had approached her after they learned how much pain he was in. She had been scared that he was going to lash out at her, but instead, he had rested his head on her shoulder. She remembered the wonder on Kim’s face as she told the team about Speckles’ encounter with Nathan at the Christmas event—the little boy and the big horse blowing air on each other, connecting in their own special way. Now, without thinking, Sarah reached her hand across the stable door to touch his face.
The horse stepped toward her and pressed his forehead into her hand. She splayed her fingers on the white splotch between his eyes. She leaned into the horse, the horse who had shown her the importance of not making snap judgments, of looking deeper than what you first see.
She inhaled his scent, the scent that brought Joey such comfort. Oh, Joey! How would he survive without his dear friend? And why did this beautiful horse have to endure such pain in his short life? Sarah hid her face in Speckles’ cheek, her tears wetting his muzzle. Lauren and Kim hugged her, and they all caressed Speckles.
“I . . . I can’t stay,” Sarah admitted.
Kim squeezed her shoulder. “It’s okay. I think we should tell him our good-byes and then go.”
Sarah felt both relieved and guilty. She stroked his distinctive face once more, then headed to the restroom, where she could cry with abandon.
Lauren couldn’t bring herself to leave. Not yet. She just needed another minute with her boy.
“Oh, my speckled monster,” she cried. “How am I ever going to get used to you not being here?”
He pressed his nose to hers, breathing on her chin. Lauren threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, something she hadn’t been able to do for weeks. His neck curved around her as she wept. Wept for her loss and his. Wept for what should have been, and what would never be. She drew a steadying breath, and he backed away from the stall door.
He turned to the back of the stall where it opened out to a small paddock, an area where the veterinary team assessed an animal’s motion. Lauren watched in awe as Speckles, temporarily free from pain, began to run. He ran and ran, his mane and tail flying wildly. He even bucked and reared. He almost looked joyful.
She wanted to call him to her one last time, wanted to touch him one last time. But she knew from the look in his eyes that he wasn’t aware of anything anymore, not even her. She didn’t want to leave, but she knew it was time for her to go. Somehow, she and Joey had to face a world without their best friend.
“Good-bye, sweet boy,” Lauren whispered.
A few minutes later, the four women stood together in the small waiting room, holding on to each other.
“Lord,” Kim prayed aloud, “we need you. This is so hard. It’s too hard to bear on our own. Fill us with your strength right now. Wrap your peace around us. God, thank you for Speckles—short as his life was. Thank you for allowing us to give him a second chance. God, we do not understand your ways, but we trust that you are good and that you will help us through this.”
She squeezed Lauren’s hand. “And please be with our sweet Lauren, who has been such a champion for Speckles. Hold her close, Lord, and be her strength. We ask this in your precious name, Jesus. Amen.”
The four women gave up trying to fight their tears and grieved the life of a broken horse together.
Kim followed Lauren and Sarah back to the ranch. The three of them unhooked the trailer and cleaned it out, thoroughly washing away every last trace of Speckles. She couldn’t believe that he was gone. Gone. Just like that. Kim slammed the door to the trailer and locked it.
She worried about Lauren. And Sarah—she was taking this extremely hard. Kim knew this loss was going to have significant effects on her team. But she feared Joey would take it the hardest.
Kim sent the three women home; it had been an exhausting afternoon. She texted Mike to let him know what had happened and that she would be late. He offered to come stay with her, but she needed a few minutes alone. Kim climbed up on a picnic table to sit, waiting for the evening feeders to arrive. She wanted to let them know about Speckles. When she got home, she planned to send out an e-mail to all of the volunteers and Hope Reins families.
Pain gnawed at her heart, starting to break through her numbness. Had she done enough for Speckles? Should she have taken him in to the vet sooner that first time? Was this her fault? She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. Now was not the time to fall apart; there was too much that needed to be done.
A whinny came from paddock two, where Joey was pacing along the fence line. He cried again, then paused—waiting
for an answer that would never come. Kim walked over, knowing the only comfort she could offer him was her presence.
Joey ran to the gate the second he heard the hinges squeak. He lunged past Kim, desperate to greet his pasture-mate.
“He’s not here, baby,” Kim whispered. “But I am.”
She reached out to touch his neck, but he jerked away from her.
Where is he? Joey’s body language demanded. What have you done with him?
Kim stepped toward the horse. “Lord, show me how to help him,” she prayed. Every inch of him was on high alert, listening for any indication of Speckles.
“I’m here,” Kim repeated, placing a hand on Joey’s back.
He stomped his front legs and released a whinny.
“You’re not alone.”
Kim laid her head on Joey’s back, finally freeing her sobs.
“You’re never alone.”
CHAPTER 16
“WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?” Kim asked Lauren and Sarah. “Joey just stands in the field all day. The feeders tell me he’s hardly eating any hay, and he isn’t grazing. It’s heartbreaking to watch.”
It had been a week since they lost Speckles. Seven days of Joey’s frantic, plaintive cries. Seven days of Joey pacing along the fence line.
The three women stood outside paddock two. Joey had finally stopped pacing, but now he was just there. His agitation had given way to complete disengagement. Everyone was becoming concerned.
“Maybe he needs a distraction,” Sarah suggested. “Possibly take him out of his field for a training session.”
The idea had merit. They had suspended any formal training sessions with Joey, thinking he needed time to adjust before placing any demands on him. But maybe it was time to get him back into a routine.
“I’ll do it,” Lauren offered, her voice sounding oddly flat, even to her own ears. “I’ll take him over to the arena.”
Joey Page 14
