April's Angel

by Danni Roan

  “Thanks for walking me to the house,” she said pushing toward the long ramp that led up onto the big porch. “I’ll be fine on my own though.”

  Jace stepped up to the door as Angie wheeled to the front of the old ranch house and pulled it open, so she would roll inside. “Maybe I’ll see you around this week,” he grinned. “Don’t let Mrs. Wade feed you too much,” he added. “You wouldn’t want to find it too hard to get on your horse.”

  Angie sat just inside the door for several long moments after the cowboy walked down the long hall, letting her breathing slow. She knew that the handsome cowboy had offered the comment as a flippant jibe, but the fear she had been fighting threatened to wash over her once more.

  The sound of someone on the phone pulled her from the icy grip of fear, and she turned toward the office on the other side of the stairs. It was time to get checked in and get herself put together.

  Chapter 2

  Angie slipped her credit card back into her shoulder bag and wheeled toward the hall that led to the welcoming kitchen. She was checked in for the two weeks of spring break and couldn’t wait to see what other changes had taken place at the old ranch.

  She smiled looking at the large quilt that hung on the wall leading up the stairs to the second floor. A large tree had been stitched onto the quilt and each branch bore the names of the founding family of the Broken J. Another familiar sight was the old photos of past family members on the wall leading down the hallway toward the kitchen.

  Angie stopped for a few moments to peer into the glass frames and examine the faces of those long gone. They looked serious yet happy in most posses, and she knew for a fact that the image of a very large man standing next to a tall thin woman was Eric Ballard and his bride Joan. Michelle Ballard had explained the picture when Angie had been there a few years earlier. She always liked that image of the big man and the tall thin woman, and she pondered the ability of any woman who would have been desperate enough, or brave enough to become a mail-order-bride.

  Turning slowly toward the kitchen, where the soft sounds of pots and pans indicated that breakfast was underway, Angie wondered if she could ever be as brave as Joan had been. Even now, the future she had laid before her made her tremble with doubt. She wasn’t sure if she could reach for her dreams, or if in doing so, she would fall flat on her face.

  The warm scent of waffles hit her as Angie rolled through the door, and she grinned when she saw a familiar figure with a head of tight gray curls hustling about the large open kitchen barking orders while younger men and women jumped to comply. Angie felt her lips tug into a grin as she watched Mrs. Wade directing the mad concert of cooking, and serving.

  The big two-story ranch house had been completely redone when Philomena Allen had taken over. Everything had been modernized, but the place still seemed like something straight out of the old west. Bright wallpaper, fringed lamps, heavy leather furniture, and more felt welcoming and somehow just right.

  As she sat quietly breathing in the smells of bacon, eggs, waffles, and fresh berry compote, Angie noticed the woman standing at the fancy coffee machine filling a tall mug. She wore a purple and white flannel shirt, jeans, and boots, and Angie would have recognized her anywhere. Philomena Haven, the owner of the ranch, was starting her day with her favorite thing, coffee.

  “Hi Mrs. Haven,” Angie smiled as she wheeled toward the coffee pot.

  “Please, call me Phil,” the pretty woman with the deep auburn hair chimed, turning with a smile.

  “Angie! Angela Cortez is that you?” a shrill voice made Angie and Phil both turn flinching as Mrs. Wade waved a spatula at them. “My haven’t you grown up?”

  “Hi Mrs. Wade,” Angie grinned rolling toward the older woman. She had spent a good deal of time hanging out in the kitchen with the older cook and former high school lunch lady when she’d visited before and adored the irascible Mrs. Wade. “I’m surprised you remember me?”

  “Remember you?” Mrs. Wade grumbled. “How could I forget? I think you and Michelle Ballard racing around on that pony cart a few years ago gave me half this gray hair.” Mrs. Wade hurried over, leaning down to hug Angie. “Phil, this is Angela, she was here when Michelle was expecting Kadence, you remember.”

  Phil groaned, “I do,” she agreed. “Can you avoid charging around the ranch in that cart with my best friend this time?” she pleaded. “Last time we had to add a whole new clause to our insurance agreement.”

  Angie, laughed, shaking her head. “I can’t promise I won’t go for a ride in the cart, but I can promise I won’t let Michelle drive.”

  The three women laughed then Mrs. Wade jumped. “Don’t burn the waffles!” she shouted making the kitchen staff hop. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d better get back, but I expect you to catch me up on everything you’ve been doing soon.” Mrs. Wade turned bustling back to the kitchen.

  “Can I get you anything?” Phil asked. “Need help with breakfast?”

  “No, I’m fine,” Angie grinned. “I’m sure Mrs. Wade will have a plate together before I ever roll to a table. Besides, you’ll have a bus in soon, so don’t worry about me.”

  Phil smiled. “It’s nice having you here again,” she answered politely. The one-time marketing mogul looked relaxed yet ready for anything as she took a sip of her coffee. “Will you be with us long?”

  “I’m booked for two weeks. It’s spring break.” Angie said. “I have several plans for this trip and didn’t want to rush it. It’s my last bit of freedom before I finish college.”

  Phil’s bright smile spilled over Angie, and she couldn’t help but return it. “Well, try not to break any of my wranglers’ hearts while you’re here,” Phil giggled. “It’s always hard putting the pieces back together once a pretty girl like you is gone.”

  Angie shook her head but laughed. She had no intention of breaking any hearts. She doubted she ever could, but she did have some very specific goals for her time at the Broken J. If she could meet the challenges here, perhaps she would be able to reach for her other dreams as well.

  “I think your wranglers are safe,” Angie replied lightly. “I can’t say the same for breakfast though.”

  “Let me know if you need anything,” Phil’s comment dropped as she looked up. “I’d better get back to work. Have a wonderful stay at the Broken J.”

  By the time Angie had rolled to the end of one of the long tables spread out around the room, Mrs. Wade had a plate stacked high with bacon, eggs, waffles and a side of grits waiting for her. Angie had pulled her coffee from the fancy machine and now sat grinning around the room as a smattering of cowboys and cowgirls hurried through their morning meal in preparation for the day ahead. It was going to be an interesting trip, and Angie was determined to overcome the nagging doubts and fears that tugged at her heart. This was the perfect place to see if she had what it took to be who she wanted to be.

  “Miss Cortez?” a warm voice drifted past Angie’s ear and she lifted her eyes smiling at the cowboy from earlier. “I was asked to let you know your bags are in your cabin.” He grinned down at her his blue eyes bright. “Can I do anything else for you?”

  “Thank you,” Angie returned the smile. “I think that’s all I need for now.”

  “Will you be taking the morning ride?” Jace seemed in no hurry to leave as he eyed the coffee pot and then his half-empty mug.

  “Not today,” Angie said hoping the nervous quiver in her voice wasn’t too noticeable. When she had visited the Broken J before, she had only ever ridden in the pony cart never having been able to work up the nerve to get on a horse. She had decided that this trip would be different, but still, her stomach churned with the thought.

  “Let me know when you’re ready then,” Jace grinned. “We have special saddles and well-trained staff to look out for you.”

  “Thanks,” Angie said with a nod. “I’ll do that. For now, I think I’ll head to my cabin after breakfast and have a little rest.”

  “You’ll like the new places
,” Jace offered. “The tiny homes are popular with singles, couples, and newlyweds.” The cowboy winked his bright grin making her heart patter.

  Angie nodded pushing her chair away from the table. “I look forward to seeing it then.”

  ***

  Jace stepped aside letting the young woman in the wheelchair roll past. There was something about her that had drawn him to her, and though he couldn’t put his finger on it yet, he hoped it would be evident before she left. She seemed special and not just because of her unique needs.

  For several moments, he stood there watching her make her way to the back door and the ramp that led to the path that wound toward the cabins. She certainly was independent. Jace shook his head clearing it of thoughts of the pretty young woman as he made his way to the coffee pot and pulled a large latte. No point missing an opportunity for some go-go juice when he was right here.

  Chapter 3

  Angie spent her first day at the dude ranch rolling along well-beaten paths between pastures, prairies, and ponds. A long winding stream divided the ranch property from the wider prairie, and Angie made her way there sitting quietly and watching the water tumble over the rocks. The stream was shallow here, but she knew that it spilled downward later on and was used to work an old water wheel that powered Michelle Ballard’s print shop. The massive building had once been a sawmill but had been converted for Michelle’s use by her husband Kade.

  Angie had decided she wasn’t ready to go all the way down to the print shop just yet, so instead had taken the time to enjoy the cool morning and bright sunshine of an unusually warm spring day.

  Even as a victim of spina bifida, Angie had always been determined to take care of herself. She knew that over the years it had been hard for her parents to watch her struggle to accomplish the things that her friends and other family members took for granted. Even now, she politely thanked other guests for their offer of assistance but insisted on getting herself over a tough spot on the trail, or through the crunching gravel that wound along the pasture on the far side of the barn.

  Somehow, being at the ranch brought a sense of peace she hadn’t expected and Angie soaked it in trying to center herself for the days ahead. Perhaps by the end of the day, she would even be ready for the evening ride. A shiver rolled down her spine, and she reconsidered. Perhaps riding lessons would be a better plan; one-step at a time so to speak.

  Angie leaned back into her chair letting the sunlight wash over her. In the fields around her, horses grazed peacefully while the chatter, laughter, and cheer of other guests drifted over the ranch.

  A loud snort startled her and Angie opened her eyes to see a big mule leaning over the railing studying her. As her heart slowed, she laughed reaching up a hand to stroke the mealy nose of the beast.

  “Hello,” she grinned, stroking the animal. “Are you Jack or Scott?” Another mule joined the first one, and together the team let Angie fuss over them. The big red mules, a cross between a donkey and a large workhorse towered over her, but their gentle natures and inquisitiveness didn’t intimidate her. She had become familiar with both of these animals five years earlier and oddly, they didn’t frighten her at all.

  “I wish I knew which of you were which?” Angie studied the two animals trying to pick out any differences, but if there were any she couldn’t tell. From what she had learned on her previous visit, every working draft team, on the Broken J, were always named Jack and Scott. It seemed like a silly if sweet tradition. The Ballard family had been keeping it going for generations, ever since Hank Ballard had arrived on the ranch in the late 1800s. There was no indication of them stopping it anytime soon.

  Angie scratched a mule on the forehead, only to have the other mule lean further into the fence seeking her attestation. The wood groaned as the animal’s broad chest pressed against it and Angie’s heart raced. What if one of the massive beasts broke through the fence?

  “Don’t do that,” she scolded but the mule only rubbed his shoulder against the fence making it creak and groan.

  Angie grabbed the rails of her chair trying to turn it, but the wheels had sunk into the gravel path. Shifting her body, she urged the chair forward even as the big mule huffed out a breath that ruffled her hair. With one final desperate shove, she got her chair moving and hurried away from the big animals. They might be gentle, but they were both very large. She didn’t want to be anywhere near them if they snapped the fence.

  Fear clawed at Angie’s throat as the worst-case scenarios raced through her mind. One of the fence rails shattering, bursting out and skewering her on a jagged tip. The mule stumbling through the fence and falling on her, crushing her under its great weight, or even just tipping her wheelchair over, spilling her to the ground with no way to get back up, or even to safety.

  Angie pushed her way back to her cabin, wheeling into the wheelchair accessible tiny house and closing the door behind her fear and worry. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything but shutting the world out as waves of helplessness washed over her.

  Trying to focus she made her way to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the small fridge. Popping it open she guzzled a long drink, letting the icy chill fill her and take away some of the heat of her anxiety.

  As her heart slowly returned to its usual pace, bright tears pricked at Angie’s eyes. How was she ever going to be able to help others if she panicked at the first sign of things getting out of control? Her greatest fear had always been helplessness, and now her fear threatened to make her helpless.

  Chapter 4

  Angie rolled into the dining area of the big ranch house for supper only to stop as the nervous chatter of guests washed over her. Everyone seemed to be in a dither over something, and Angie was sure she had missed something important today.

  Spotting the friendly cowboy from the morning, she wheeled toward him and called out. “What’s going on?” she whispered, eliciting a smile.

  “Seems one of the younger riders decided they knew better than the guides and forced their horse down a side trail away from the main group. She took a tumble when the horse turned back rather suddenly.”

  “She isn’t hurt is she?” Angie’s eyes grew wide.

  “No, but they’re getting her checked out in Tipton before the family moves on.”

  “Are they leaving because they’re angry?” Angie asked worried that Phil and Chase would be losing business.

  Jace chuckled, “No, more like Phil’s mad, and they broke the agreement they signed at the beginning of the week. Knowing Phil she’ll refund whatever remains of their visit, but legally she doesn’t have to.”

  “Does this sort of thing happen often?” Angie couldn’t imagine disregarding the guides and their rules. She knew from her mother and father’s visit that the horses were gentle and dependable and that the guides were highly skilled riders.

  “No. Thank heavens,” Jace sighed. “The riding agreements are watertight, legally, and Chase has the best crew he can find. He doesn’t just hire anyone who can ride. He had connections throughout the rodeo community and tends to hire a lot of former riders and workers. Men and women from the circuit have loads of experience with horses and people.”

  “I knew Chase was a bronco rider back in the day,” Angie giggled at her turn of phrase, “but I didn’t know he hired people from the rodeo.”

  “Our head wrangler does most of the hiring now. Red Dixon was a rodeo clown for years and knows just about everyone. He’s also the lead for Cowboys for Christ in our area.” Jace shook his head. He didn’t know why he was telling her all of these things. She was a guest who had come to the Broken J to experience the adventures of the not-so-wild west, not listen to him ramble about how the place worked.

  “Red’s still here?” Angie asked with a smile. She remembered the grizzled old man with the twinkling eyes who often got Dandy, the pony, ready for use in the pony cart.

  “You remember Red?”

  “Of course,” she grinned. “You don’t for
get a visit to the Broken J easily.”

  Jace smiled glad that this pretty young woman was interested in the ranch as a whole. “I was just about to sit down to eat, would you like to join me?”

  Angie hesitated for a moment then followed him to a table where several other staff members were sitting and waited as he nudged a chair out of the way. Meals at the Broken J were served family-style and servers brought platters, bowls, and baskets of food to each table where guests could help themselves. Tonight’s fried chicken, potato salad, tossed greens, and baked beans looked like a feast, but Angie couldn’t help eying the table of desserts near the coffee and drinks machines as well.

  “Can I get you a drink?” Jace asked still standing.

  “I can get it,” Angie protested grasping her wheel rim again.

  “I’m sure you can, but I offered out of politeness, so let me. Just name your poison,” he added with a heavy drawl.

  Angie laughed. The cowboy standing beside her didn’t seem to be offering because he thought she couldn’t do this on her own, he was just being friendly. “Ginger Ale then, thanks.”

  Angie smiled shyly at the others along with the table while Jace went to get their drinks. Several of the other workers, most of whom seemed close to her age, introduced themselves.

  “You must have heard about all the excitement,” a blonde with a long braid down her back said. “We’re all giving Brady a hard time about it. He was riding drag on the group and should have seen that girl slip out of line.”

  “He isn’t in trouble is he?” Angie leaned forward wondering which one was Brady.

  “That’s him there,” the blonde commented, pointing a finger at a young man with black hair who slunk into the dining room next to Chase Haven himself.