Home for Good

by Jessica Keller

  Kate made a stretching sound, pulling Ali out of her thoughts. “I’m losing the battle with my eyelids. I need to get to bed.”

  Ali looked at the clock—it was past ten. “We need to get you up to bed too, Mr. Chance.” She turned, and his sleeping body slumped onto her lap. “Chance.” She put her hand on his side to give a shake, but a warm, calloused hand covered hers.

  “Shhh. Don’t wake him. I can carry him up to his bed.” Jericho scooted out from under the boy’s feet. With great gentleness, he lifted her son into his arms. Jericho cradled Chance’s head against his shoulder. Ali began to rise, but Kate stopped her.

  “Stay. I’ll show him. I’m going up there anyway.”

  They tiptoed from the room and padded up the stairs. Ali rubbed her eyes and looked back at the television, where Peter Pan was playing. The lost boys bopped across the screen, taunting the pirates in one of the final scenes of the movie. Captain Hook nicked some of the fairy dust and now zipped around in the air after Pan. For a minute it really looked like the red-coated pirate would actually be victorious, but then the tick-tock croc jumped out of the water, the colossal crocodile’s jaw slicing through the air as it snapped. Suddenly, Peter trapped Hook just feet above the wide-mouthed lizard, and the lost boys began to chant about him being old and alone.

  Ali rubbed her hand against her collarbone because the ache in her chest started up again. She wanted to charge onto her feet and yell at the lost boys. They were cruel. For the first time ever, she felt for Hook. She watched his face, the emotions transferring from confidence to despair as he let their words sap his happiness away. Feeling the fairy dust failing, he crossed his arms, bowed his head and plummeted into the croc’s waiting mouth. The giant beast swallowed his prize and dove back into the water. The lost boys cheered.

  Swiping away a tear, Ali hit the power button and chucked the remote across the room. She strode out the door, down the porch steps and into the yard. Taking two ragged breaths of chilled night air, she looked up at the mountains and clenched her fists.

  She thought about her mother’s funeral. It burned her. No one in the community had bothered to come, and Ali realized she didn’t want to live the same life. She didn’t want to end up alone.

  The front door creaked. “Ali? What are you doing out here?”

  Jericho.

  She hugged her middle as he crunched toward her over the gravel driveway. Stepping in front of her, he tipped up her chin, looking right into her eyes, which were brimming over.

  “Is it your ma?”

  She shrugged from his touch. “More than that.”

  “It might help to talk.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “What are you doing tomorrow? Can’t you take the day off? I think you need to get away from everything. The loss of a parent isn’t something you rebound from the next day.” His voice dropped, and his eyes softened. She knew how much he had struggled with the loss of his own mother.

  Ali blew out a stream of air. “I can’t take a day off. I have riding lessons to teach tomorrow, and the ‘Dream A Little Dream’ event for Big Sky Dreams to plan, and—”

  “Can’t someone else teach the lessons?”

  She shook her head. “You have to be certified. I’m already running on fewer volunteers than I need, and Megan took tomorrow off so I have to be there.”

  “I’m not needed at Pop’s place. His staff works like a machine without me. They’re used to running the place. It’s been just them since Pop went in the nursing home. I’ll help you. I’ll get here early and saddle all the horses and get them ready before you wake up.”

  “I wasn’t asking...”

  He held up his hand. “I know. But I’m offering. I want to see you doing what you love. I want to understand why this organization is so important to you.”

  She knew she should say no. But she did need the help. And his desire to know the woman she was now felt like a balm for all the raw spots on her soul. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Sleep in, Ali.”

  She’d regret it later.

  * * *

  Rolling the heavy wood out of the way of the barn door, Jericho ushered in the sweet tang of freshly cut alfalfa. He walked to the middle of the indoor arena, surveying the training area, impressed with Ali’s work. Stalls lined both sides of the barn, and the dirt floor in between could accommodate a class on horseback. Hay and tack filled most of the stalls on the right side, but on the left side, heads bobbed, ready to start the day. The smell of manure, animal sweat, hay and oats swept him back to his childhood.

  Thankfully, each horse had a nameplate on their door that matched a name tag on their saddle. The first one read Salsa. Propping the saddle against his shoulder, he lugged it to the corresponding stall. As he came closer, a horse down the line whinnied and pawed its hooves against the wooden planks of the wall.

  “Dumb horse,” he mumbled. “Wait your turn.”

  Jericho ran his hands over Salsa’s muscular body. He went through the motions, checking for injuries or signs of sickness before saddling the horse.

  His thoughts drifted to Ali.

  She loved these fool beasts. Especially her Denny. Jericho remembered the day her dad brought home the flea-bitten buckskin. Abandoned and malnourished, he’d come cheap. When Mr. Silver walked the scrawny horse out of the trailer, Jericho thought the best thing for it would be a bullet between the eyes. The pitiful creature had ribs protruding out of his torso like a row of knives, with deep gashes on his sides, and his spine plates stuck out visible like a stegosaurus. But Ali jumped up and down like Christmas morning, squealing. For a full year she babied that horse back to health. To be honest, Jericho had been eaten up with jealousy over her attention to that horse. But Ali had been right—persistent love had turned Denny into a winner.

  The horse at the end of the row whinnied again. No longer pawing at his stall, he gave a full-out kick to the door. Jericho charged down the aisle.

  “Doesn’t Ali teach you manners? If you were my—” His words dropped off when he read the name on the stall. He heard an eager nicker then saw the giant strawberry roan. “Chief?”

  The horse—his horse—snorted and tossed his head as Jericho unlatched the stall door. He stepped in, and Chief shoved his muzzle into Jericho’s chest, sniffing loudly. “Hey there, old friend. I would’ve come to see you sooner if I knew you were here.” Chief lowered his head, butting it against Jericho.

  “He remembers you.”

  Jericho jolted. He glanced over his shoulder. Ali stood two paces behind him looking cuter than should be allowed at six in the morning.

  Turning back toward the overjoyed horse, he scratched Chief’s neck and the beast leaned into his touch, releasing a deep sigh. “I had no idea you kept him.”

  She shrugged then crossed her arms. “You didn’t just abandon me when you left. Chief refused to eat. He started picking fights in the herd where we had them boarded. I couldn’t afford the fees anyway, so I came crawling back to Ma. I begged her to let me keep them here. I had to work with him every day to bring him back, but I think it was the therapeutic riding that really saved him. Once he finished the training, he was our big confident guy again.”

  Looking between the woman he loved and the horse he’d ridden since he was a boy, Jericho felt the weight of his consequences heavy around his neck. His throat went dry. “Thank you for taking care of him when I didn’t.”

  “Are you going to take him back, away from here?”

  Jericho patted his old friend. “You said he does the therapy riding?”

  “He’s one of our best. The kids love him because he’s so big.”

  “Then he stays.”

  “But he’s your horse. You have the right to take him back if you want.”

  Jericho paused, choosing his wor
ds carefully. “When we got hitched, he became yours, too. The whole two-becoming-one thing includes possessions. He’s yours. I’m glad he’s an asset to your program.”

  She released a long drag of air. “Oh, good. It’s hard to find quality horses with the limited funds we have, and the kids love him. I’d hate to have to replace him.”

  “Naw. This is where he belongs, right Chief?” Jericho patted the roan’s red-and-white speckled withers. “I might want to come ride him every now and then though, if that’s fine by you?”

  Ali reached up and brushed away the bronze-colored mane from Chief’s glistening eyes. “I think that would be just fine.”

  * * *

  Jericho worked his thumbs over the back of his neck.

  “You’ll do fine.” Ali squeezed his arm. “You’re going to be the side walker. You just keep your hand a couple inches behind Eddy’s leg while he’s riding.” She waved to a girl rolling into the barn on a wheelchair, then continued her instructions. “Just don’t touch Eddy and you’ll be fine.”

  Walk. Don’t touch. Seemed simple enough.

  “Doc. Doc. Doc.” The small autistic boy tapped his helmet. His eyes looked spacey as he gazed into the arena.

  Ali hovered near the child. “Of course you’ll ride Doc, Eddy. And this man here is going to walk beside you, if that’s okay? Jericho is new, so you’ll have to help him.”

  Kate led out a roly-poly brown horse with a white blaze down his face. The child’s hand shook, and he started chanting the horse’s name louder when the animal stepped in line with the mounting stairs. Worrying the horse might act up with all the noise, Jericho transferred his weight onto his better leg, just in case he needed to take quick action.

  Did Ali really know what she was doing? An accident with one of these kids could be catastrophic. The children were unpredictable around the animals—and a horse needed strong, confident handling, which Jericho doubted the students would have. Ali said she had some sort of certification that gave her the ability to teach therapeutic riding. But was it safe?

  She brushed up beside him and explained in a low voice, “Eddy was nonverbal when he started the program. Doc is his first word.”

  Jericho gaped. “He couldn’t talk?”

  Rounding the brown horse, Ali helped Eddy climb into the saddle. The small child started clapping. Ali’s voice was bathed in patience as she talked to the child. After the two other riders in the lesson mounted their horses, Ali strolled out to the center of the arena. Kate and two other volunteers led the horses around the edge of the circle. Ali pulled out cards for a game, handing a stack to each side walker.

  “Ride to the red barrel. Touch your horse’s back three times.” Jericho read the card out loud.

  Kate smiled, looking over her shoulder for instruction from the rider. “Where should we make Doc go, Eddy?”

  The boy pointed at the red barrel near the front of the barn.

  “Excellent job, Eddy!” Ali called, then turned to offer praise to a student who weaved their horse through the striped poles.

  After the lesson was completed, Ali waved goodbye to her students and stayed in the barn talking to parents. Jericho made himself busy, scrubbing out water buckets and putting away tack. When she finished, he ambled over to her.

  “What did you think?” She beamed. Jericho’s breath whooshed out of his lungs at the sight of her. Ali was incredible.

  “I’m glad I came. I think I understand a little more why this means so much to you.”

  She shrugged. “I fit in here, doing this. I love horses and children, so it works. I’m just glad riding can be used to make someone’s life better.”

  “I can tell they were all having fun, but I guess I don’t know enough about the particulars to understand what the riding does for the kids.” He looped a lead rope over his hand.

  She peered into a horseless stall, checking the tack hanging inside. “Did you know that a horse’s gait mimics the human gait? The strides are almost identical. So when the kids are riding, the muscles they need to strengthen are being used without them even realizing it. I’ve read stories of students who couldn’t walk learning how because of the therapeutic riding.”

  “Sounds pretty cool.”

  An idea had been nagging him since the beginning of the lesson, and he decided to feel it out. “Is this just something for kids, or would the therapy work for adults with problems, too?”

  “Therapeutic riding definitely works for adults with a spectrum of issues.”

  “What about an amputation?”

  “Yes. Therapeutic riding has been shown to speed the acclimation to a prosthetic.”

  Bingo. His idea took root, and suddenly purpose surged through his veins. Since returning home, his dogged drive had been to win back Ali alone, but he knew he needed to figure out the rest of his life now, too. Would he ranch like his dad? He’d thought before that he’d stay in the army, but that wasn’t an option now. But this new plan? It just might work.

  * * *

  Ali moved aside the curtain and peeked out the window as Tripp spoke. He’d come to discuss payment options for the rest of Ma’s debt.

  “I don’t like it, Alison, not one bit. What is he after?”

  She snapped up. “I’m not following. Who are you talking about?”

  “Freed.”

  She leaned her head against the glass. “I don’t think he’s after anything. I think he’s just back.”

  “But he’s been here—at your home—every day since he’s returned. You don’t find that strange?”

  Working her lip between her teeth, she scanned the horizon, so sure she had just seen movement. “We were close growing up. Jericho never really had many friends besides me because of how his dad was.”

  Tripp took hold of her elbow and made her face him. “I think there’s more to this that you’re not saying. You know better. It makes me sick to stand by and watch history happen again.”

  “Tripp, I guess I don’t know why this concerns you.”

  He stiffened, like she’d slapped him. “If that’s how you feel, I can leave. I just—I considered us good friends, and I’m worried about you.”

  She laid her hand on his forearm. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound harsh.” She laughed. “I don’t even know what I think. How can I voice what I don’t understand?”

  Pushing up his sleeves, he braced both hands on the counter behind him. “I guess the situation nettles me. I mean, this guy brought nothing but trouble into your life. And if that’s not enough, then he leaves you and you have to struggle and work sixty-some hours a week just to survive.” His voice rose. “Don’t deny it. I’ve watched you ever since we were kids. He’s got some sort of magic over you. He’s trash, Alison. He’s never treated you right, and now you’re just running back to him.”

  Ali clenched her fists. “Jericho Freed is not and never will be trash. And I am not running back to him. He’s just around.”

  “Sounds like a lot of heartache if you ask me.”

  “Then what would you have me do?” She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter opposite him.

  Tripp let out a breath and stepped closer, drawing her hands into his. “I would have you choose me instead.”

  “Choose you?” she whispered.

  “Let me draw up the divorce papers.”

  “But I—”

  “I want to marry you, Alison.”

  A flutter of panic tickled her stomach. Marry Tripp? But Tripp didn’t love her.

  “Hear me out. I’m trustworthy. I’ll never leave you like he did. I will always be here for you. And Chance.” He licked his lips. “I want to adopt him after we’re wed.”

  A loud clang-cla-clang made them jump.

  “Sorry...I...ah...sorry.” Megan dropped to the ground
, cheeks reddening as she scooped up the empty popcorn bowl. “Kate and I...our movie is finished.”

  “It’s okay, Megan. Tripp was just leaving, and I’m heading to bed.” Ali took the metal bowl from her and rinsed it in the sink.

  Tripp looked between them like a scolded boy. He inched his way to the back door. “Remember, just say the word, Alison. I can take care of everything.”

  Even though he was a good friend, Ali was thankful when the door closed behind Tripp. Upstairs in her bedroom, she pressed her fingers to her temples. Marry Tripp? She didn’t love him, and certainly didn’t appreciate his controlling tone tonight. Then again, love had gotten her into trouble in the past.

  Chapter Nine

  “Well, all your paperwork looks to be in order, Mr. Freed. We just need to run some numbers, and I’ll let you know what else you need to do to get this corporation off the ground. It doesn’t look like there’ll be any problems.”

  “Thanks.” Jericho fought the itch in his fingers to yank a gap in his tie. The fool contraption always choked like a tightened noose. He ran his palms against the stiff fabric of his dress pants. While the bank employee typed at the desk, he picked up her nameplate, and it fumbled to the floor. He lunged to pick it up, smacking his head on the edge of the desk on the way up.

  The young loan officer hopped to her feet. “Oh, dear, are you all right, sir?”

  Rubbing the back of his head, he smiled. “I’m fine. Smarts my pride the most.” He read the nameplate before setting it back on her desk. “Miss Galveen.” Jericho scrunched up his brow. “Why does your name sound familiar? Did you grow up around here?”

  She blushed. Oh, just great. She thought he was feeding her a pickup line.

  “No. We’re new in the area. Maybe you know my father? He works at the Mountaintop Research Laboratory.” Pride laced her voice, and her chin went up a notch.