Unbridled Dreams

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  Willa interrupted him. “I hope it isn’t common knowledge, doctor, but Otto Friedrich has been difficult for much of our married life.” She paused. “As to our situation—” She looked away for a moment and then, with a sigh, looked back at the doctor. “I was the one who left. Otto didn’t want that. If I decide to return, I have no reason to think he’ll be anything but delighted. So if you could bring in a nurse for today and tomorrow, then I’ll drive back out to the ranch and pack. It will also give me time to open up the house. There’s probably a thick layer of dust over everything, and I’ll need to stock the pantry. Otto can stay in Ella Jane’s room on the main floor. Stairs won’t be an issue.”

  “You’re going to need someone to help you with his daily care,” the doctor said.

  “I wouldn’t know how to go about finding anyone,” Willa said. “As you know Ella Jane has married and left town, and I just don’t know anyone else to ask.”

  “One of your nieces, perhaps?”

  Willa shook her head. “Otto wouldn’t stand for that. His pride wouldn’t want them to see him this way.” She bit her lip. “Do you think I should wire Irmagard? If there’s any danger of—”

  “We’ll know more in a few days,” the doctor said. “I think it’s quite all right to wait and see how things go before alarming your daughter. There are no guarantees, of course, but I have a sense that the worst is probably over.”

  Willa cleared her throat. “Irmagard isn’t aware of the situation here, Dr. Sheridan. What I mean is, she doesn’t know about me staying out at the ranch and Otto moving into the hotel. To be honest, I wanted some time to think things through before making any kind of pronouncement to the family.”

  “I understand,” Dr. Sheridan said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to make other arrangements for Otto’s care?”

  “Oh, no. No. That wouldn’t be right. I couldn’t live with myself if I let you do that.”

  “If you change your mind, you mustn’t hesitate to ask for help,” the doctor said. “I’ll check around to see if anyone might be available for hire. And if two days isn’t enough time for you to prepare to take him home, that’s all right, too.” He patted her arm. “You’re a good woman, Willa Friedrich. Otto’s blessed to have a woman in his life willing to do this for him—in spite of . . . problems.”

  Willa nodded, gathered up her things, and headed for the livery. Before leaving town, she swung by the train station and asked Johnny Dolan to ready the barn at the house for Nellie’s return. At the last minute she thought to ask if he’d water Otto’s trees. And then she headed north to the ranch, wishing with all her heart that she could muster up some semblance of affection for the motionless man in Dr. Sheridan’s infirmary.

  “I just don’t understand why you won’t let us send Minnie back with you,” Laura said. “We’re your family.”

  Willa laid her everyday apron atop the things in her trunk and closed the lid. With a sigh, she sat down on her cot. “Otto’s a proud man, Laura. He’d never forgive me for allowing his own niece to see him like he is. Dr. Sheridan said he might be able to find someone I could hire. I’ll hope it pans out. If not, we’ll get by.”

  “Are you going to wire Irma?”

  “I don’t think so. At least not yet. Dr. Sheridan didn’t think it was necessary. He seems to think the worst is over. She’ll be coming home in a few weeks for a break after they’ve finished their fall tour anyway. And I’d much rather he be better before she sees him.”

  Laura sat down next to her and took her hand. “Are you going to be all right with this?”

  “I don’t know,” Willa replied. “I’m still so angry and hurt I can barely stand to look at him sometimes.” She swiped at a tear. “But then he plants trees.” She began to cry, grateful for the understanding apparent in Laura’s quiet presence. Once she’d calmed down, the two of them dragged Willa’s trunk through the door. Minnie and Dora came running and helped load it onto Willa’s buggy.

  Minnie was the first to offer a hug. “I’ll pray, Aunt Willa,” she murmured. “And you must let me come and help if things get too hard.”

  Dora nodded. “M-me t-t-oo,” she said. “I’d be happy to c-clean and wash d-dishes for you. All you need.”

  Fighting back more tears, Willa hugged them all, climbed into the buggy, grabbed the reins, and headed home. At the top of the rise, she looked behind her at the peaceful ranch. How she would miss the loving family she’d come to know in new ways during the past few weeks.

  Father, thank you for the Masons. Thank you for their love. Thank you for the time out here. I don’t know if I’ve learned anything about what I should do. Charlie said you have a plan, I just had to find it. Tell me, Lord God, is Otto’s condition part of your plan? I’ll try my best to do my duty, if for no other reason than Otto’s caring for me for all the years of our marriage. I owe him this. But I need your strength, Father. Maybe even a miracle or three.

  Apparently God had spent all His miracles on other supplicants that week. The nurse Dr. Sheridan contacted wasn’t available. In fact, the five contacts he made about help for Willa weren’t available. When, by Saturday, Otto had regained the use of his arm and proven his ability to walk—albeit unsteadily—Willa insisted she take him home. She had cleaned the entire main floor of the house, she’d restocked the pantry, and she told Dr. Sheridan she was tired of sleeping on a cot in the infirmary and tired of having to make a special trip every day to water Otto’s trees. “He may not be talking, but he can make his needs known,” Willa said. “There’s no reason he shouldn’t go home.”

  Otto nodded agreement and motioned for a tablet upon which he wrote, shakily, Let me go.

  “All right, Otto,” the doctor said. “But you see to it you do everything you possibly can for yourself. This is a wonderful woman you have here, and she shouldn’t be treated like a servant.”

  Otto’s face turned red at the scolding, whether from embarrassment or anger, Willa couldn’t tell. He reached for the cane Dr. Sheridan had provided earlier and, standing erect, wobbled for the door. His left foot dragged.

  “See here, Otto,” the doctor said. “I’m to go get Mr. Knox when you’re ready to go. He’s going to help Mrs. Friedrich push you home in this chair.” He pointed to the wheelchair he’d rolled out earlier.

  “It’s blistering hot out there. You don’t want to walk. Sit down now. It’s the best way.”

  Otto grunted and kept walking. At the front door, he rattled the knob with his nearly useless left hand. When he couldn’t work it out, he let go of his cane to use his right hand, lost his balance, and would have fallen if Willa hadn’t been there to steady him.

  “You don’t seem to believe me, Otto,” the doctor said. “If you don’t sit in this chair and let Mr. Knox wheel you home and help you inside, I won’t let you go.”

  “Please,” Willa said. She put her hand on his arm. “It’s just this once. Everyone will be delighted to see that you’re well enough to leave the infirmary. And the next time they see you, you’ll be walking on your own power. And it’s much more dignified than having Mr. Knox and Dr. Sheridan lift you into the buggy. Or into the back of a wagon. Don’t you think?”

  Otto closed his eyes for a moment. Then, with a grunt and a shrug, he sat down in the wheelchair.

  Everything would have been fine, if only Cy Matthews would be reasonable. “He treats me like I’m two years old,” Belle said one night when she and Shep took a walk. “At the rate we’re going, there’s no chance Blaze will even be ready for the parade in October, let alone Madison Square Garden.” She gestured as they walked, venting her frustrations. “I think I should talk to Mr. Cody.”

  “Bill Cody doesn’t have time to talk over your disagreement with Cy,” Shep said. “He’s deep into plans for the Garden performances. Figuring out how to create indoor cyclones and prairie fires is more important right now than whether or not one cowgirl is happy with Cy Matthews.”

  “So what are you saying I should do?”
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  “Just settle in and do the job, Belle. Be happy with the way things are for a while. You wanted an audition and you got it. You wanted a job and you got that. You wanted to be a regular part of the performances and you are. You wanted Blaze and you’ve got her. You’re already riding her and she hasn’t even tried to buck you off. Not only that, you’ve got an expert—and I do mean an expert—advising you. So train your horse. Do your chores. Perform as expected. Your life is good, Belle. Be thankful.”

  “I am thankful,” Belle said. “But I’d be really thankful if you’d admit that maybe Cy Matthews is wrong, and I’m right about Blaze.”

  Shep stopped in midstride. Looking down at her he said, “Honey, I’m going to tell you something now, and it’s going to make you mad. But it’s for your own good.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” he nodded. “Really.” He put his hand on her shoulder.

  “You’ve got more guts than brains if you think you know more than Cy Matthews about training that horse.”

  Belle glared at him for a moment. When he didn’t back down, she turned around and walked off. She didn’t know what made her more angry—what Shep had said or the fact that he let her go.

  “That’s good for today,” Cy said the following Sunday evening. It had been the shortest session yet.

  “Can’t I at least take her over to the arena and walk her around in it? There’s no one in the stands. She trusts me.”

  “She trusts you in this corral,” Cy said. “We’ve yet to see what she’ll do outside of it. And we’re gonna keep it that way until the season closes at the end of the month. Once the company’s left on its fall tour and things are quiet around here, I’ll start introducing her to new things. And please don’t argue with me. I’m gettin’ tired of it.”

  “I’m not arguing,” Belle said as she slid out of the saddle and to the ground. “I just don’t understand how I’m ever going to have her ready for a parade in October when I haven’t so much as ridden her outside this corral yet.”

  “Been meanin’ to talk to you about that,” Cy said. “You see to Blaze and then meet me yonder by the arena curtain. I’ve got to talk to Grady Clemmons about somethin’. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  Blaze snuffled Belle’s shoulder. She turned around and combed her fingers through the mare’s dark mane. “He doesn’t know you like I do. Don’t let it bother you. We’ll figure something out.”

  A few minutes later Belle had unsaddled Blaze, put her back in the stall next to Diamond, and gone to find Cy.

  “I think we both need to face facts, Belle,” the older man said. He turned aside and sent a stream of tobacco juice into the dirt. “I’m just as disappointed about it as you are, but that mare just doesn’t have the temperament to be a parade horse. Or a trick horse. Now, before you say anything, you let me finish. It ain’t your fault. None of it. You were right about her responding to you and you were right about her needing a gentle hand and being a smooth ride. And if she was stabled back in Nebraska there’d be no better saddle horse in the county. But she’s got a streak of attitude about her and there’s no amount of training in the world that’s gonna change that. Blaze was just never meant to be what we’re asking of her. And it’d be cruel to continue to expect it of her.” He spat again.

  “But you just said you’d work on gentling her more after we close down.”

  “Sure I did,” Cy said. “She’s far from finished, even as a saddle horse. But when she is finished, she ought to be shipped home. Your daddy can collect her, and you’ll have yourself a nice horse to ride whenever you’re back there.” His voice gentled. “Now, I know you’re disappointed. But trust me. It’s best for her and best for you. You can ride Diamond in the parade and I’ll talk to Bill and keep my eye out for another arena horse to train for when Diamond needs to retire.”

  Belle made her way back to Blaze’s stall. The mare walked over and nibbled her shirt, looking for sugar. “He’s wrong,” Belle whispered. “He’s wrong about you.”

  It was late that night when Belle slipped out of her tent and made her way back to the stables. All Blaze needed was a chance. They couldn’t give up on her. While Belle was willing to concede that a Manhattan parade might be a stretch, she was still convinced that if Blaze were only familiar enough with the arena, if she saw it as little more than a larger corral, where she was secure and where Belle was always in charge, the mare could still prove to be a spectacular trick horse. Enough time had surely passed for her to have forgotten any associations between the arena and bucking. And besides that, Cy hadn’t seen Blaze bow. He hadn’t seen her raise one hoof to “shake.”

  Belle was waiting to surprise people with that part of the act. They’d only practiced on nights like this, when everyone else was asleep or disinterested in whatever Liberty Belle was up to over there in the corral with her horse. But if she didn’t do something quick, there would never be an act for Blaze. As for having a nice saddle mare for when she was at home, Cy had to know what Momma had paid for Blaze. Didn’t he realize Belle couldn’t just give up like this? Momma would never understand.

  At the stables, Belle slid on a hackamore and mounted up bareback. Slowly she walked Blaze across the moonlit grounds, letting the mare take her time. The moonlit tents were the first thing that made her start. Belle patiently urged her forward until Blaze snuffled at a canvas corner, realized it was nothing to fear, and walked on. The fake boulders just inside the arena cast eerie shadows that were a problem for a minute, as well. But again, with Belle’s gentle encouragement, Blaze finally walked past them.

  “This is it, girl,” Belle said. “We’re gonna spend a lot of time in here together. And you won’t be a bucking bronc ever again. It’ll be noisy. But you won’t be afraid because I’ll be here and I’d never put you in danger. You can trust me. You know that, don’t you?” She nudged the mare forward again, and as they walked the perimeter, Belle kept talking. Occasionally the mare would snort and dance sideways, but Belle stayed calm and was always able to settle her. Her heart soared. It was working. Blaze might not be a parade horse, but she would learn to be an arena horse.

  And then, as they were leaving the arena, an owl swooped down out of the stands and lighted on one of the false rocks. Blaze snorted, shied, and began to buck. In seconds, Belle was sailing through the air. She landed with a grunt and watched, helpless, as Blaze hurdled over one boulder, stumbled, crashed through the backdrop, and disappeared.

  Scrambling to her feet, Belle charged after the horse. Relief flooded through her when she realized the mare had only run back to the corral where they’d been training for weeks. She was waiting at the gate, her sides heaving, her coat flecked with sweat. She seemed to sigh with relief when Belle grasped the hackamore and led her toward the stables. That was when Belle noticed the limp.

  CHAPTER 25

  BE MERCIFUL, JUST AS YOUR FATHER IS MERCIFUL.

  Luke 6:36 NASB

  “What in tarnation were you thinking?!” Cy Matthews bent to examine Blaze’s leg. “No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to hear it. In fact,” he said, standing upright and putting both hands on his hips, “I don’t want to hear anything from you.” He grabbed the lead rope. “I need some light to check her over, but if we start hauling lamps out here it’ll spook her even more. Let me get her into her spot next to Diamond. He’ll calm her down some, and then maybe I can get a better look. I’ll come find you when I have something to say.”

  Belle knew she’d done the right thing to rouse Cy and have him come right away. You didn’t just ignore a limp and hope it would get better. But it wasn’t easy being the brunt of his temper. Especially when Belle knew that his anger was justified. She could scarcely keep from bursting into tears right there in front of him. As it was, she barely made it halfway to the tent she and Helen shared before she began to blubber. Afraid of waking Helen, she followed the gravel path she and Momma had walked together not three weeks ago, but instead of stopping at the bench
they’d shared, Belle headed for the grove of trees where she ended up sitting beneath a towering oak, her knees drawn up, her head down, her mind numb.

  Belle woke with a start just as dawn was coloring the eastern sky. For a moment she was disoriented and wondered how it was she’d come to sleep beneath a tree, but then it all came back. As dread clawed at her insides, she made her way to Blaze’s stall. The mare seemed all right. Her leg was wrapped, but she didn’t seem to be in a lot of pain.

  In spite of appearances, Cy’s report wasn’t good. In fact, it was horrible. Blaze had a bowed tendon. Cy explained that, while she would recover and probably be a great saddle horse, she would never stand up under the demands made of Wild West horses. And as for trick riding?

  “Never gonna happen,” Cy said. He spit a stream of tobacco juice and swiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Not that I didn’t already tell you that a few hundred times.” He stomped off.

  By breakfast it seemed that all five hundred people in the Wild West had heard about Liberty Belle ruining a potentially great horse. You’re imagining things, she told herself, when people seemed to be whispering and looking her way. But she wasn’t imagining the fact that Shep didn’t have breakfast at all and Helen was unusually quiet. And she wasn’t imagining Mabel Douglas’s passing up their table to go and sit with Ned Bishop. Not that she missed Mabel Douglas’s company. But it was hard to be snubbed by the least-liked person in the troupe.

  As the day went on and people continued to give her the cold shoulder, Belle grew increasingly defensive. So much for Sunday Joe’s sermons on forgiveness, she thought. Hadn’t any of them been listening to him? When she mentioned it to Helen, Helen wasn’t sympathetic.