by Chris Platt
“It’s going to take a while to build the barn,” Jessica said. “If the vacationers bring horses, where are we going to put them?”
Mrs. Warner took a sip of her hot coffee. “Well, all of our corrals have covered shelters in them. We’ll put our horses out in the pasture and let the guests’ horses take the corrals. Mr. Williams down the road said he’d loan us a couple of his portable stalls. Besides,” she added, “these first guests are getting their vacation package at a discounted rate. They’ll just have to deal with the barn problem, same as us.”
“So tell me about the visitors,” Jessie said. “Are there any kids? How old are they? When do they get here?”
“Slow down, honey,” Mrs. Warner said, raising her hands in the air as if to ward off all the questions. “I don’t have many details, but it looks as if we’ll have three families in the first bunch, and they’ll stay for ten days. There are a total of seven kids and all of them are teenagers, I believe.”
Jessica was too excited to finish her cereal. There were teenagers. And they’d be right here on Wild Hawk Ranch! They could ride horses all day, swim in the afternoon, and make s’mores around the campfire at night. Then she thought of something else. “Will we have enough horses?” she asked her mother.
“Some of the guests are bringing their own mounts.” Mrs. Warner rinsed off the breakfast dishes and stacked them in the sink. “We’ve already contracted with the Lightfoots to use ten of their horses as we need them. We should be okay in that area.”
She got out two pairs of work gloves and put them on the counter. “I guess we’d better figure out who you’re going to be riding, Jess. We’re planning to take the cattle up to the higher pastures while our visitors are here. We’ve got to get these calves fattened up so they bring the best price possible. You’re going to need a dependable mount.”
Jessica frowned. “I hope Dad doesn’t say I have to ride Grizz. That horse is worse than a bear!”
Mrs. Warner laughed. “Grizz does have his moments, doesn’t he?” she agreed. “But come on, Jess, let’s get to work. The boys are out putting in stakes for the new barn, and our guests will be here in three weeks. It’ll take us every bit of that time, maybe more, to get this place shaped up.”
Jessica pulled on her boots and grabbed a pair of rubber gloves. No telling what kind of grime and iggly-squigglies they’d find in those two old bunkhouses. It had been years since they’d done anything with them besides use them for storage. She opened the back door and was surprised to find Marybeth sitting on the back stoop.
Marybeth jumped up, all smiles, and Jessie couldn’t help but smile back. Her friend was wearing a pair of old bib overalls that were too big for her and had the pant legs rolled up several times. A pair of work gloves stuck out of her back pocket, and she held a broom in her hand.
“I know you didn’t invite me, but I wanted to help,” she said, giving Jess a look that begged to let her stay. “My mom said I could if it’s okay with you.”
“Fine with me,” Jessica said. “Thanks.” The more hands, the better, as far as she was concerned. It was sweet of Marybeth to want to help out. She wondered whether all the neighbors were talking about the trouble Wild Hawk Ranch was in, and whether this dude ranch thing would work out. She didn’t even want to think about what might happen if their cattle didn’t bring a good price at auction.
“So where do we start?” Marybeth asked.
“Well, I’ve got to feed Rusty and Chase first,” Jessica said.
“Okay.” Marybeth trotted after her friend as they headed to the corrals. “This is going to be fun today.”
Fun? Jessica wondered. She doubted it, but if that’s what Marybeth thought, she wouldn’t disagree.
When they reached the corrals, Jessica dragged out the soaking tub, explained her plan, and showed Marybeth how to mix the water, salts, and vinegar to make the drawing agent for Chase’s foot. She was glad to see the filly walking better this morning. This time, when she threw the hay in the feeder Chase only hesitated a moment before following Rusty into the tub.
Duncan walked by and nodded approvingly. Jessica couldn’t help feeling proud. She’d taken the best care she could of the pretty filly. Then she quickly had to remind herself that Chase wasn’t hers.
“Why are you frowning, Jess?” Marybeth asked.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Jessie turned from the horses and led the way to the bunkhouses. For now she was going to pretend that Chase belonged to her, and she’d keep bugging her brother for more training lessons.
“Let’s get started!” Mrs. Warner called from the cabins.
Jessica gave Rusty one last pat and headed toward her mom with Marybeth trailing behind.
“Do you want to do the honors, Jess?” Mrs. Warner waved her arm, indicating the door of the first bunkhouse.
Jessica grabbed the rusty old handle and gave it a turn, pushing against the rough grain of the wooden door. It swung inward with a loud groan, exposing the interior of the little-used building.
They all stared at the inside of the bunkhouse. After years of being used as a catch-all for all of their junk and building materials, it was a mess.
Jessica stepped through the door, batting at a spiderweb that drifted against her face. She hoped the spider wasn’t crawling on her clothing now. She hated creepy crawly things.
Rows of boxes and various items that her mother had moved from the house over the years were piled throughout the forty-foot-long building. The bunks had been built back before her family owned Wild Hawk Ranch, when working cowboys had lived in them. There were no blankets on the beds and no pillows. No closets, no dividing walls, and no door on the bathroom.
Jessica wondered how all this would ever work. It would cost a lot to buy linens and curtains and put up walls so each family could have a bit of privacy. For a moment, she felt guilty about wanting to keep Chase. Selling the filly would help pay for a lot of repairs to the ranch. And she knew her parents could find her an old horse that didn’t cost as much as Chase would bring at auction. But it wouldn’t be the same.
She looked around the room and took a deep breath. The floor was littered with old boards and odds and ends from the barn, and everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt. It would take a huge effort to fix up this place.
“Uh-oh…” Marybeth turned to Jessica with a big smile. “Hey, it’s a big job, but we can do it! I don’t think we’re going to finish before lunchtime, though.”
Jessica picked up her mop bucket and broom and tried to gather some of Marybeth’s optimism. But at the moment, she doubted they’d be done by the time their first guests arrived.
NINE
Jessica put down her broom and inspected her work. All of the extra boxes had been moved into another outbuilding and the loose lumber lay stacked in a neat pile outside the door. She and her mom and Marybeth had spent the last four hours sweeping, cleaning, and dusting the back half of the bunkhouse. As soon as they had the entire thing sufficiently cleaned, her father and brother would take over and put in the walls and closets. How would they ever get this place livable in three weeks?
Some of the neighbors had volunteered to help with the building of the barn. Maybe they could enlist a few of them to help with the bunkhouses, too.
She heard the growl of the tractor outside. Her father was preparing a spot for the new barn to be built. Dozens of large poles had been delivered earlier this morning. By tomorrow, they would be put in the ground and the barn would start to take shape.
It felt strange to think of a new stable going up when the acrid odor of the old burned barn still lingered. She thought about Rusty and how lucky it was that Duncan had rescued him from the fire. It was a very brave thing to do—and sad, too, since his own horse had to be put down. She felt thankful that her brother hadn’t been hurt. Just the thought of it made her shiver.
She picked up a rag and wiped off a dust spot they had missed. From the old, narrow window she could see the trainin
g pen where her brother was working with the new horses. Their dog, Shep, ran around the outside of the pen, hoping for a chance to go in and help herd the horses.
Duncan has the best job, Jessica thought. He got to spend the entire morning out with the horses, getting them used to being handled again. She would much rather be outside with her brother than inside doing housework. But then she reminded herself about all the kids her own age who would be here in just a few weeks’ time. Having new friends to hang out with would make it all worthwhile.
“Okay, ladies. I think it’s time to see about lunch.” Mrs. Warner pulled the plastic gloves from her hands and laid them over the side of the mop bucket. “Anyone interested in grilled hamburgers and hotdogs?”
“Yes!” Jessica and Marybeth said in unison.
Mrs. Warner wiped the dirt smudges from her face. “Jess, could you go tell your dad and Duncan that lunch will be ready in about twenty minutes? Marybeth, how about if you help me with the grilling?”
“Sure!” Marybeth pulled off her gloves and followed Mrs. Warner out the door.
Jessica went to the sink in the cabin’s bathroom and washed her face and hands. The grime on her cheeks felt at least an inch thick. Yuck! But the cold water felt good on her warm skin. The temperatures were getting hotter as summer approached, and the forecast for today was eighty-seven degrees. The heat in the bunkhouses would be stifling by the afternoon. They’d need to get air conditioning, or at least some big fans, before the dudes arrived.
She turned off the faucet and headed outside to where her father was moving lumber into position for the barn. She waved, trying to get his attention above the loud noise of the tractor. “Lunch, twenty minutes!” she hollered when he finally looked her way. Her father nodded and kept working.
Jessica turned and made her way to Rusty’s corral to check on the two horses. It was time to put ointment on the poor gelding’s wounds. When she reached the pen, she was delighted to see Chase walking with no limp. Her father’s old remedy had worked miracles. Maybe by tomorrow she’d be able to practice a few of Duncan’s training methods on the filly.
She got out the medicine and Rusty walked over to say hello. He laid his whiskered muzzle alongside her cheek and blew warm horse breath on her face. “I love you, too,” she said, placing a kiss on the end of his nose. Rusty lifted his lip in a horse laugh and she knew she had tickled him. “Sorry about that, pal. Now just stand there like a good boy while I doctor these wounds.”
Jessica was pleased that Rusty’s burns were healing nicely. She was also glad to see that the filly was standing much closer to her now and didn’t seem very alarmed about it. That gave her hope. She left the corral with an extra spring in her step.
When she reached the round pen where her brother was working the new horses, Jessica saw the blue roan haltered and walking calmly behind Duncan. She thought about the wild-eyed colt that she and Marybeth had watched racing around the pen just yesterday. Her brother had predicted the colt would be halter broke by the end of today. It seemed he’d been right.
“Mom says lunch’ll be ready soon.” Jessica watched the horse follow Duncan around the pen. When her brother stopped, the colt stopped. When he turned, the roan turned. What had happened between last night and now to make the colt seem docile as a puppy dog? “Can you show me some more training stuff?” she asked.
Duncan lifted his head enough to see out from underneath his ball cap. “Later,” he said, then turned toward the gate and led the colt from the training circle.
Later? For Dunce, that could mean ten minutes from now, or next year. She watched him lead the gelding back to his pen, hoping that he’d invite her along and give her some more tips, but he just kept walking. At this rate, she’d never learn to train horses.
The next few days passed in a blur of cobwebs and cleaning rags, but at last they had one cabin cleaned and more-or-less remodeled, ready for visitors.
Jessica stood in the middle of the largest bunkhouse. This might be the building that would house her future best friends. A twang of guilt poked at her, reminding her of Marybeth and all the hours her sort-of best friend had spent on her knees scrubbing the floor when she didn’t have to. According to Jessica’s mother, that’s what best friends did: helped each other with the tough stuff as well as being there for the fun things. She just wished Marybeth were a few years older. Sometimes she seemed grown up, but other times she acted like a baby.
“Let’s call it a day,” Mrs. Warner said, tossing her worn-out rag into the wastebasket. “Your father’s gone up to the house, but I think Duncan wants to see you down at the corrals, Jess.”
Marybeth checked her watch. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jess,” she said. “My mom’s supposed to be here soon to pick me up.”
Jessica pulled off her gloves and laid them on a windowsill then waved goodbye to Marybeth. Her stomach rumbled, begging for dinner, but it could wait. Duncan had asked for her, and besides she wanted to check on Chase and Rusty.
Every day for the past three days, she’d gone to visit Rusty and Chase on her breaks from cabin cleaning. She’d taken carrots and apples, but nothing seemed to convince Storm Chaser to be friendly. Jessica could never get closer than six feet before the filly turned and walked away.
This baffled her. She could tell that the paint wanted to be friends. Chase stood there with ears pricked forward, looking very interested as Jessica brushed and pampered Rusty and fed him handfuls of goodies. But every time she approached, the filly hightailed it to the opposite end of the pen. Jessica remembered how her brother had tamed the roan colt to the halter in just one day. She wanted that so badly for Chase, too.
Unfortunately, Duncan had been too busy lately for Jessica to ask for his advice. He got up at daybreak to work on the barn, then spent the rest of his time breaking horses. There didn’t seem to be any time left for her. Sometimes the Lightfoot boys dropped by to help and Jessica stood by the training pen, hoping that they’d invite her in. But they were too busy concentrating on the horses or laughing and joking around with each other to notice her. Not even Wyatt had turned to smile at her lately.
Who could figure boys out?
Jessica felt a rising surge of jealousy when she thought about Duncan having a good time with his best buddies. Her brother was so lucky to have kids his own age to do things with. Why did all the closest ranches have stupid boys living on them? They weren’t any fun—well, maybe Wyatt, sort of—but the rest of them were a pain.
At least there was a good chance there would be girl visitors to the ranch. That idea brought a smile to Jessica’s face and she quickened her step, but when she reached the corrals, she halted in her tracks.
Duncan stood in the middle of Rusty’s pen while Wyatt waited outside the gate. Rusty wore a saddle and Chase had a lasso around her neck with the end of it snubbed to Rusty’s saddle horn.
“What are you doing?” Jessica cried in alarm. “Rusty can’t be ridden and Storm Chaser will choke if that lasso tightens.”
“Stay where you are and be quiet!” Duncan ordered. His voice was low and urgent, and his blue eyes flashed.
Wyatt nodded and held up a hand to motion her to stay in place.
Jessica crossed her arms, angry at Duncan and Wyatt for being so bossy. But how could she keep quiet? Her brother knew Rusty was not supposed to be ridden. But as she watched him speak softly to the animals, her doubts began to fade.
Duncan quieted Chase with the low, steady drone of his voice. When the paint stood calmly, her ears forward, he picked up Rusty’s lead rope and led him forward. Wyatt opened the gate for him. Chase balked when the rope tightened and Jessica feared there would be an accident. But the filly soon stepped forward, falling into line behind Rusty as he exited the pen. Both horses followed Duncan to the round pen. Wyatt walked quietly beside them.
When they were inside the training circle, Duncan quickly untied the rope from the saddle horn and handed Rusty to Wyatt. The Paiute boy tied the gelding to a tree.
Jessica looked to her brother. “What are you going to do with Chase? How are you going to get the rope off her when we can’t even touch her?”
Duncan shrugged. “Who says I want to take the rope off?”
With that, he took a firm grip on the loose end of the rope and smooched Chase into a lope. The spirited filly cocked her tail over her back and ran in a wide circle around Duncan, snorting and tossing her head as her hooves churned the sand under her feet. Her injured foot seemed to be totally healed.
“Wow, look at her go! “Jessica said to Wyatt, who had come to stand beside her. Rusty whinnied in concern. “Don’t worry, she’s okay,” Jessica told the old horse. “She’s just blowing off steam and feeling good.”
She watched the paint, marveling at her speed and agility. Storm Chaser’s muscles rippled under her shiny coat as she cantered around the ring. Jessica imagined climbing aboard the beautiful horse’s back, feeling the power of the paint’s stride and the sting of mane whipping against her face as they raced across the Nevada desert.
But Chase isn’t mine, Jessica thought, and she never will be. She’d lost the filly before she ever really had her.
Before the barn burned, there might have been a small possibility of owning Chase. But now that dream was out of the question.
“This filly is one beautiful animal,” Wyatt said, shifting his hat down low over his eyes. “I worked with her a lot when she was young, and I didn’t want my dad to sell her. She’s smart like her mama. Once she comes around and remembers what she was taught a while back, she’s going to be one heck of a horse.”
Storm Chaser made another quick round of the pen and Duncan let her slow down to a trot. He nodded for Jessica to enter the pen. She waited for the paint to pass the gate, then quickly squeezed through the bars and ran to the center of the round pen to stand beside her brother.
