Storm Chaser

by Chris Platt

  “Gator and Wyatt’ll be here soon to round up those horses,” her father said. “Could you help your brother out and catch Grizz for him? I’ll finish up with Rusty. You don’t like watching him get shots anyway.”

  Jessica took the halter and bucket of grain from her father. She hoped the brown beast would fall for the grain trick. Grizz hated being caught. He knew a halter meant he had to go to work, so at the first sight of one, the cagey gelding took off to the opposite side of the pasture. Duncan could make him stand for haltering, but the horse never paid much attention to her. Jessica could think of many things she’d rather do than chase Grizz around the five-acre pasture, but her father had asked her to do it.

  She spotted Grizz near the opening to one of the corrals. But true to his contrary nature, the crafty gelding gave her a dubious look and sauntered off toward the middle of the field.

  “I’ve got grain…” Jessica said in a sing-song voice, shaking the grain bucket.

  Grizz stopped and looked back over his shoulder, as if trying to decide whether eating the molasses and grain feed was worth the riding he’d get. Jessica shook the bucket again and continued to walk forward with the halter behind her back. The big bay waited until she was within five feet of him, then picked up his walk, moving just fast enough to keep ahead of her.

  Jessica groaned in exasperation, but continued to trail the gelding. By now, the other two ranch horses in the pasture had heard the grain rattling in the bucket and came over to investigate.

  Feeling sorry for the animals that were trailing behind her, lipping her shirt and begging for a treat, Jessica stopped and gave them each a small handful of the sweet feed. That got Grizz’s attention immediately. He pinned his ears and chased off the other two geldings, but he still refused to come close enough for Jessica to halter him.

  Jessica sat the bucket at her feet and crossed her arms. “If you think I’m just going to give this to you, you’re wrong,” she scolded. Grizz stood facing her with his ears pricked. Jessica picked up the bucket and held it out. The bay gelding took a few steps forward and stretched his neck toward the bucket, stealing a few oats before dodging out of range of the halter.

  “That does it!” Jessica stamped her foot. “I’m not wasting any more time on you. I’ve got a sick horse to take care of that likes to be pampered. I don’t need to be out here chasing a knothead like you around the pasture. Duncan can catch you himself!”

  She turned on her heels and marched back to the gate. As she passed through Grizz’s corral, she looked over her shoulder and noticed that the big horse was following at a safe distance.

  Jessica smiled. “I’ll outsmart you at your own game,” she promised, sitting the grain bucket down next to Grizz’s shelter. She walked out of the pen and hid behind the next shed. Peeking around the corner, she watched the wily gelding stop at the entrance to the corral, snorting as he looked around, expecting to see Jessica. He spotted the red bucket standing by itself and shuffled forward, sticking his muzzle deep into the bucket.

  “Gotcha,” Jessica whispered, stepping quickly toward the corral gate and banging it closed. Grizz stared at her, looking surprised he’d been caught. Jessica laughed and hung the halter on the gate. “This time I won, pal,” she gloated. “Dunce can handle you from here.”

  Dr. Altom had finished with Rusty by the time she returned. He showed her the antibiotic pills and the salve for the horse’s burned spots. Jessica thanked the vet, then gave Rusty a flake of hay and sat on the side of the manger to watch him eat. He didn’t have much of an appetite, but he picked out the best pieces of dried grass and clover and chewed them slowly.

  “Wow!”

  Jessica heard Marybeth’s awestruck voice all the way across the yard. She stood and waved to her neighbor as the younger girl trotted up on her Appaloosa pony, Daisy.

  Marybeth dismounted, then took off her riding helmet and shook out her shoulder-length blonde hair. She wore jeans that looked new and an imitation silver belt buckle. The shirt she had on was way too big for her. She pointed to where the barn had stood. “That is totally amazing!”

  “Yeah,” Jessica said. “Pretty bad, huh?”

  Marybeth wrinkled her nose. “It really smells. How can you stand it?” She led her pony over to Rusty’s corral, eyeing him suspiciously. “Is he okay?”

  Jessica shrugged. “Not really. The vet says that I can’t ride him anymore. His lungs are weak, and he’s old.” Tears stung her eyes and she turned her head away so Marybeth wouldn’t see.

  “Don’t cry, Jess.” Marybeth stared through the boards, her voice suddenly full of concern.

  Marybeth’s plea made Jessica feel even worse. She sat on the edge of the feeder and covered her face with her hands. She heard the creak of the fence as Marybeth crawled over it, then dropped down beside her.

  “It’ll be okay, Jess.” Marybeth patted her awkwardly on the back, then draped an arm around her shoulder and sat very still while Jessica cried.

  After a while Jessica sniffed loudly and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Sorry I’m such a blubber-baby.”

  “It’s okay,” Marybeth assured her. “If I couldn’t ride Daisy, I’d be really sad too.” She climbed back over the fence and untied her horse from the rail. “Do you want to borrow my horse for a couple of days? Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

  The offer made Jessica want to cry again. “Thanks, but my dad is going to make me ride Grizz.”

  “Ohhh,” Marybeth’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Yikes.”

  Jessica nodded. “Yeah, it sounds like a pretty bad idea to me, too. I think I’ll just wait a while and see if Rusty gets better.” She wanted to tell Marybeth more about the paint filly, and her hope that her father might let her keep the beauty for a riding horse. But it made her feel disloyal to Rusty so she kept her mouth shut.

  Marybeth would get a chance to see all the pretty horses once Duncan and the Lightfoot boys brought them home again. If they brought them home again. Maybe by then, she’d feel like talking about it.

  Marybeth put her foot in the stirrup and swung her leg over the saddle. “My mom told me not to be gone long. I just wanted to see you and find out how bad the fire was.” She paused, looking at the burned out remains of the barn. “It looks really bad.”

  Jessica nodded in agreement. They sat there in silence for another moment. She hoped that Marybeth wouldn’t say anything more. She didn’t feel like talking about it. All she wanted to do was go to her room and get into bed and pretend that none of this had ever happened. Thankfully, Marybeth just waved and turned her horse for home.

  Jessica stood and dusted off her pants. The barn was gone, along with a large portion of their winter’s hay. Duncan’s horse was dead, Rusty was sick and might not get better, and all of the new horses were running loose.

  How could things get any worse?

  FIVE

  Mr. Warner was on the telephone in the kitchen when Jessica entered the house. She could hear him speaking in a businesslike tone.

  She walked past him and flopped on the couch in the living room, resting her head on the small throw pillow. She could still hear her father’s voice. She couldn’t really make out his words, but she couldn’t help noticing that he sounded rather irritated. A minute later, he abruptly hung up the phone. The sound of his boot heels echoed across the wooden floor of the kitchen as he walked toward the living room.

  Jessica stared at her father as he stood in the doorway, running a hand over his worried face. He didn’t seem to have noticed that she was there. It seemed strange to catch her father in an unguarded moment and see the worry lines etched in his strong features. She cleared her throat to let him know she was there.

  “Have you been in here long?” Mr. Warner asked.

  Jessica shook her head. “Only a minute. I’m kind of tired. I think I’ll take a nap.”

  Her father managed a small smile. “You’ll have to wait a minute for that nap. Can you go get your mother, Jessie? I’ll call
Duncan. I’ve something I want to discuss with everyone before your brother leaves to round up those horses.”

  Jessica hopped off the couch and went in search of her mother. She had a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach that the news, whatever it was, wouldn’t be good. She found her mother by the burned barn, rummaging through the ashes.

  Mrs. Warner lifted a charred piece of leather and tossed it on the grass. “That’s what’s left of the saddles,” she said in disgust. “We’ve got some older ones that we stored in the bunkhouse, but all the good tack was in the barn.” She looked around and sighed. “And now it’s all gone.”

  Jessica could hear the tears in her mother’s voice. She wanted to run over and give her a big hug, but it would probably just send them both into another crying fit. They didn’t need that now. “Dad wants to see all of us up at the house before Duncan leaves,” she told her mother.

  Mrs. Warner nodded. “Your father was on the phone to the banks and the insurance company. Maybe he’s got good news,” she said.

  Jessica didn’t have the heart to tell her mother that her father’s discussion on the phone hadn’t sounded very encouraging. She followed her mother to the house and took her place at the kitchen table.

  Everyone stared at Mr. Warner as he sat in his chair. Jessica thought he looked tired, and suddenly older.

  “All right,” Mr. Warner began. “I’ve never been one for wasting words, so I’m just going to come right out and say this.” He crossed his arms and looked down. “We’re in a bit of a bind, folks. The insurance we had on the barn wasn’t enough to cover the cost of rebuilding it. We didn’t have the feed supply insured at all, and they’ll only cover the cost of part of the tack and equipment.” He took a deep breath and continued. “Cattle prices are down, and feed and grazing permits are up. We don’t have enough money to cover all of our losses.”

  “What are we going to do?” Mrs. Warner asked. “We’ve got to have that barn built and the feed restocked before winter. We’ve got two hundred head of cows and calves. They won’t have enough forage on that land to make it to auction in the fall, let alone through a tough winter.”

  Jessica quickly cut her eyes to Duncan, trying to gauge his reaction. But as usual, Duncan sat stoically in his chair, waiting until he had all the information before offering an opinion. She wished she had his patience. At the moment, what she really wanted to do was stomp her feet and scream at the top of her lungs, but she took her brother’s cue and sat there quietly.

  Mr. Warner reached for his wife’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, Kate, we’ll come up with something. The insurance money will be here in a few days. We should have enough to get the barn halfway finished. We’ll have to find a way to get the rest of it done. We’re just going to have to buckle our belts and watch our spending.”

  He turned to Duncan. “Son, make sure you find those new horses, all fifteen of them. The money we get from breaking and selling them will put a lot of hay in the barn. If we don’t restock that hay supply, those cows will be in a lot of trouble, and their sale is what puts food on our table.”

  Jessica frowned at the mention of the new horses. The pretty little filly would be sold. There would be no chance now for her to ask for the paint. Her family needed the money. End of story.

  “What about mortgaging the property?” Mrs. Warner suggested. “We’ve got enough in equity to take out a good-sized loan.”

  Jessica thought her father was going to turn purple at the suggestion. She waited for the explosion, but he just took a deep steadying breath and spoke in a calm voice.

  “I will not mortgage this land, Kate,” Mr. Warner said. “That’s what cost old man Smith his property last year. He got so far down, he couldn’t make his payments and they took his land. I won’t chance that.” He looked at each of them around the table. “Don’t worry. We’ll rebuild and restock the barn by winter. You’ve got my word on that.” A sense of uncertainty hung in the room like a wet horse blanket. Jessica felt as if her family was teetering on the edge of destruction, hoping for a big dose of luck to see them through.

  “May I be excused?” Jessica asked.

  Her mother nodded. “Yes, but not for long. We’ve all got a lot of work ahead of us today. I’ll give you ten minutes and then I want you to meet me outside.”

  Jessica slid her chair back from the table. So much for taking a nap and hiding in bed the rest of the day. So many things had happened since last night. It seemed like her whole world had tipped on its end.

  Just yesterday she’d been making big plans for the summer, which included finding a way to keep the paint filly for herself and having a great time riding Rusty through the desert. But now everything had changed.

  She stepped out the back door just as the Lightfoot boys rode up.

  “No worries, Jess,” Gator called over his shoulder as he turned toward the hitching post. “We’ll bring every one of those horses back.”

  Wyatt rode past Jessica, tipping his hat and giving her another one of his shy smiles. He nudged his horse into a canter to catch up with his brother. Jessica marveled at the way he sat his horse. Like Duncan and Gator, he moved with his mount. There was no extra bouncing on the saddle or kiltering off to one side. He looked a part of the horse.

  Mrs. Warner waved to the Paiute boys. “Duncan will be down in just a minute,” she called.

  “Come on, Jess.” Her mother steered her in the direction of what used to be their barn. “We’ve got to start cleaning up. Your father’s digging holes with the tractor so we’ll have a place to put those burned boards and debris. It’s our job to fill the holes.”

  “Okay.” Jessica pulled on a pair of heavy gloves and grabbed the wheelbarrow. While her father operated the tractor, moving the larger pieces of burned wood to the holes, she and her mom spent the entire afternoon hauling wheelbarrow loads of charred rubble. Shep ran back and forth between them all, inspecting each load that was dumped. The sickening smell of burned wood and smoldering hay filled Jessica’s nostrils, making her want to gag. She found a kerchief and tied it over her nose, but it didn’t help much.

  By sundown, everyone was exhausted. Nobody felt like cooking over a hot stove, so their late-night dinner consisted of sandwiches and potato chips. Jessica was so worn out and sick to her stomach, she could only manage half a sandwich before she excused herself to go give Rusty his medicine and turn in for the night.

  Even getting ready for bed was difficult. Her arms ached so badly from pushing the heavy wheelbarrow that she could hardly lift them. Just brushing her teeth and putting on her pajamas was a real pain.

  She said good night to her parents, then climbed into her soft bed. She lay awake for a while, thinking and listening to the sounds outside her window. A lone cricket chirped in the night, and she could hear one of the horses nicker softly in the front pen. A pack of coyotes howled in the distance, calling to each other from the mountain tops.

  Jessica thought of Duncan and the Lightfoot boys sleeping under the stars. She wished she could have joined them. Rounding up the new horses had to be a gazillion times more fun than cleaning up after the fire.

  Her eyes grew heavy and she soon drifted into a deep sleep, but some time after midnight, her growling stomach woke her, reminding her she hadn’t eaten much during the day.

  Jessica put her feet over the side of the bed, cringing at the soreness of her muscles. She gingerly put on her slippers and crept down the stairs to raid the refrigerator. When she reached the bottom of the steps, she stopped short, seeing a light in the kitchen. Nobody in the house stayed up this late. Maybe her parents had forgotten to turn off the light before they went to bed.

  She tiptoed across the living room floor, then halted in the shadows when she spied her father sitting at the kitchen table. His shoulders were slumped, and he was rubbing his forehead as if it hurt. He was so deep in thought he hadn’t heard her come down the stairs, and she felt uncomfortable about catching him in another ungu
arded moment. In the soft light of the kitchen, Jessica was shocked to see that the man who had always seemed so strong and capable now looked so old and tired. Her heart ached for him.

  She turned to leave, but not before she caught a glimpse of what her father was studying on the table. There before him, lined up in neat order, were the business cards the travel agents had left each time they came to call.

  Jessica drew back. Was her father really considering taking them up on their offers? He’d been dead set against turning Wild Hawk Ranch into a guest ranch for city folk. Confused, she turned and crept back up the stairs, seeking the comfort of her bed.

  She crawled under the covers and lay staring into the darkness of her room. The whole family knew how her father felt about renting their home out to strangers. If he would even consider such a thing, they had to be in even more trouble than she’d thought.

  SIX

  Jessica saw the dust cloud rising over the mountain before the riders and the herd came into view. She turned and shouted to her parents. “They’re coming!” She’d spent the last hour preparing the pen, making sure the water tanks were topped off and the mangers were full of the sweet-smelling grass hay that several of the local ranches had donated to help out. The horses would be tired and thirsty after the long trek back to the ranch. She wanted them to be glad they’d returned. They needed to see Wild Hawk Ranch as their home.

  Rusty pricked his ears and neighed a welcome to the returning horses as they picked their way down the mountain. Jessica was happy to see him perk up. That meant he had to be feeling better. She joined the old gelding in his corral and watched the approaching horses and riders. Squinting into the morning sun, she scouted for the black-and-white coat pattern of her favorite filly.

  “Do you see her, ol’ boy?” Jessie scratched him behind the ears. Rusty nickered as if in reply, but Jessica knew he was just responding to the approaching herd. She searched the sea of bays and chestnuts, spotting the one gray and the blue roan in their midst, but not the paint. Where was the filly?