Lauraine Snelling (15 page)

“No, Eddie. I’m a volunteer for the foundation.”

“Oh. Where are the horses?”

“Some are in the pastures, some in the barn over that way.” She pointed to the left. “We’ll be having an introduction and a showing in twenty minutes or so. Can I get you something to eat?”

“No thanks, I’ll help myself.”

“Eddie,” Gil hissed as he followed his son into the line for the buffet. “I’m adding to the rules. Don’t ask women if they’re inmates.” The people milling around and in line seemed more like the business type than the horsey crowd he’d expected. A couple of teen girls were the only other children present, so far at least. He studied the brochure Bethany had handed him, information regarding the Thoroughbred Retirement Foundation. There was nothing about the program for the day here. He supposed they’d be told what to do, where to go.

Watching Eddie put only cheese and some fruit on his plate, he went lightly on his own serving. He knew what his son wanted—to see the horses. Time spent eating was way long on Eddie’s list.

“Will there be people to tell us about the horses?”

“I’m sure there will be. Would you like something to drink?”

“If I can take it with me.”

“You can stick a water bottle down in your chair.”

“Okay.”

After quickly consuming sliced ham and cheese on a roll, a spear of mixed fresh fruits, and a glass of iced tea, they headed for the barn. A black woman in green pants and shirt stood by one of the horses in a stall. She stood at least six feet tall; Gil had no question in his mind that she was an inmate. He hoped the shock didn’t register on his face.

She pointed to Eddie. “Hey, you wanna meet my friend, Dancer?”

“Sure.” Eddie smiled up at her. “Do you ride him?”

“No, we’re not allowed to ride, ’cept for Maggie who you’ll see later. we just take care of them. When he came here, you could count ever bone in his body he was so thin and look at him now.”

The horse leaned his head over the stall door and sniffed Eddie’s outstretched hand. “Will he be up for adoption?”

“Not yet, he goes to another farm for more training. All he knows to do now is race, and he can’t do that no more.”

“He was injured?”

“He jes broke down.” She petted the horse’s neck as she talked. Some other people gathered around behind them.

“Did he race a lot?”

She nodded. “But he weren’t never a big winner. He too nice a guy.” She pointed out the other horses in the stalls. “You go around that end of the barn and you’ll see other horses out in the paddocks. Most of them really like peppermint candy.” She dug in her pocket. “Here, you give Dancer this. You know how to feed a horse, proper like?”

Eddie nodded. “I’ve been riding for almost two years at Rescue Ranch.”

Her eyes widened, taking in the wheelchair. “You been ridin’?”

He grinned at her. “I’m pretty good too. We have a retired and retrained Thoroughbred at our stable. I’ve even ridden him.”

Gil noted the absence of the ultra-patient tone in Eddie’s voice at this surprise of his riding ability. Usually he prickled like a porcupine.

“Well, I’ll be . . .”

“See you. Oh, what’s your name?”

“Kool Kat, and I never dreamed I’d be workin’ with horses.”

“I’m Eddie, and my dad says you have to dream it first to make it happen.”

Shifting her gaze to Gil for the first time, the woman regarded him solemnly.

Gil gave the horse a pat and said, “Good job,” immediately feeling like a genial overseer. Had she taken it as condescending? She could take him down in a second.

They wandered down the aisle, looking at the horses, and then on around the barn. Most of the horses had come up to the fences and were accepting the attention of the guests. One hung way back at the far corner.

“Why hasn’t that one come up?” Eddie pointed to the loner.

“I have no idea.” Gil shrugged his shoulder. “Why don’t you ask?”

Eddie waited until the other group had moved on. “Can I ask you a question?”

“That’s what I’m here for.” The girl was Latino and petite.

“How come that horse hasn’t come up?”

“He’s new here and pretty shy. These others are used to all the attention we give them so they have better manners.”

“You teach them good manners?”

“Among other things.”

“Which of the horses needs a sponsor?” Eddie had a buyer’s look on his face. Gil groaned inside.

“Well, they all do for the time they’re here and then some will need sponsors for life.”

“Because they are injured too badly?”

“Right.”

One of the horses nipped another and the two got in a scuffle.
I’ve had employees who did that,
Gil thought. Funny, he hadn’t comprehended the different personalities of horses until now.

“All right, you two, break it up. They get to arguing over who got the most pets or treats,” the woman confided to Eddie, as though he and she were the only ones present.

“Who’s the boss?” Gil asked, now more interested than he thought he’d be.

“That dark bay over there; the one that looks almost black. When he gets fed up, everyone else leaves.”

“Will all these be adopted some day?”

“I hope so. They deserve to have a good home and good care.”

“What’s that one’s name?”

“We call him Strawberry. He’s so tame, he could be a pet. Once he’s your friend, he’ll follow you around like a puppy dog.” She grabbed the horse’s halter and brought him closer to Eddie. “You can pet him if you like.”

“We shoulda brought carrots, Dad,” Eddie said over his shoulder to Gil. “Next time we come, we will.”

Next time, buddy? I don’t think so.

“I hate to tell you this, but most of these horses didn’t know what a carrot or an apple was. No one ever gave them treats.”

“I give the horse I ride carrots every time I ride. He slobbers carrot breath on me.”

The two of them laughed. Gil was having trouble keeping his perception of inmates intact. What had each of these women done that warranted them losing their freedom, perhaps even their children? His hand tightened on the handle of Eddie’s wheelchair.

A microphone announced the show in the round pen would begin in five minutes.

As they came out to the round pen, Gil surveyed the situation. Since the walls were solid, Eddie would not be able to see. Shame they hadn’t set up some bleachers. People stood around the pen, visiting in groups.

“Yo, Eddie.” Kool Kat was effortlessly pushing two hay bales in a wheelbarrow toward them. “If two ain’t enough, we’ll get more.”

Eddie grinned up at his father.

She dumped the bales, and Gil helped lay them tight against each other. Together they lifted the wheelchair up and Eddie nodded. “I can see fine now, thank you.”

Kool Kat high-fived the boy and nodded to Gil. “Cool.”

Gil looked after her. He sighed. Such a waste. Surely someone as personable as she could make it on the outside.

Two men and a woman entered the pen and stopped in the middle, she with a microphone while one of the men carried a clipboard. “Welcome, everyone to our first open house on the west coast for the Thoroughbred Retirement Foundation. You all received brochures about the Foundation so I won’t bore you with what you can read. What I want to say is that we are committed to keeping as many Thoroughbreds out of the slaughterhouse as possible.”

“You’re kidding,” Gil muttered spontaneously. Eddie shushed him.

“People in some parts of this world think horse meat is a delicacy—we think horses deserve to live out their lives serving and working with humans to make this world a better place.”

One of the men took the mic the woman handed him, introduced himself and then the man in charge of the prison foundation program. “Mr. James teaches the women who volunteer for the program.”

Gil regarded the man who wore his long sleeves rolled to his elbows, jeans that had seen many washings, and a smile both warm and confident at the same time. What passion for horse and human drove him to try something so . . . alternative?

“If they finish the training, the women will have an associate’s certificate in stable management. The training will qualify them for a job on the outside. We believe that working with the horses is a benefit for both the humans and the animals. Mr. James.”

Eddie was lost in the moment, Gil noted, as James began to speak.

“I’d like to share with you some of the histories of the horses we have here, introduce you to the kind of work we do. The Thoroughbred is a very intelligent animal, not just a dumb jock that can run fast. We give them the chance for a new kind of life. I believe that everyone and everything deserves a second chance.”

Gil’s prejudice took another hit. That’s what he taught when he spoke, so why was he having trouble applying it now?

“Or even a third or more if needed.”

Gil wasn’t sure about that part.

“In speaking of our workers, since our program is so new, only one of our workers has been released or paroled, but we all know of changes that are happening right before our eyes. Now,” he turned. “Our first horse is Dancer’s Delight led by Kool Kat, who had never met a horse in her entire life.”

Someone opened the gate and Kool Kat walked in with the horse Eddie had fed the peppermint candy.

While she led him around the pen, Mr. James told more about the treatment and care the horse received. “Soon as the vet declares him sound, he will be released to a training facility and available for adoption from there. We will be taking applications, and there is a screening process so that we get the right horse with the right owner.” He nodded at both the horse and woman. “Thanks, Kool Kat.”

The crowd applauded. Gil watched his son about as much as he watched the horses. Eddie had brought a small notebook along and was taking notes. Gil couldn’t read them, he was too far away, but he’d bet anything Eddie was making lists of more questions to ask. Watching the next horse trotting around the pen at the insistence of his leader, he caught himself wondering what it would be like to ride one of these beautiful animals. Perhaps Carly would teach him to ride. That thought made him start to smile. But how would his small son without the use of his legs—or
with
use of his legs—even think of controlling one of them?

Then he heard Eddie suck in a breath. He looked to see where his son was looking and had about the same reaction. The sun set the horse on fire almost like sparks radiating from his hide. He had a braided black mane and tail, with one sparkling white sock halfway to his knee. The rider kept him turning in a small circle, waiting her turn in the pen. She was slender and wore the green uniform of an inmate, her face shaded by a black riding helmet.

“And for our final horse, Breaking Free, ridden by Maggie Roberts.”

The two of them moved as one. Gil had read of that, but not seen it before. They said the Indians rode that way. She let the horse trot a straight line, his long legs reaching out, floating across the ground. When she brought him to a stop, she leaned forward and patted his long arched neck.

“Breaking Free.” Eddie whispered the name and wrote something on his paper.

“Breaking Free came to us ready to maim anyone or anything he came in contact with. It took two big men to get him from the trailer into a stall, and they left with huge sighs of relief.” Mr. James gave more of the horse’s background and then said, “We discovered since it was men who had abused him, he hated men. Maggie took over and using all we know of what’s called ‘natural horsemanship,’ brought him around.”

She rode Breaking Free up to Mr. James for several pats and a cheek rub before trotting him around the pen.

“As you see, with extra work, we helped him get over his fear, and now our horseshoer—or farrier—who is a man said this horse is a dream to work with. Breaking Free will be available for adoption fairly soon so we are accepting applications for him.”

Gil watched the woman back the horse, turn first one way and then the other, trot a figure eight, and trot out the gate to the applause from those watching. How did a woman like that end up in prison?

SIXTEEN

M
aggie collapsed in the saddle with her arms around her horse’s neck.

“You did it, big boy, you did it.” She sniffed and mopped under her eyes with her fingertips. “Freebee, you are one awesome horse!” She patted his neck again and sucked in a deep breath.

“That was awesome,” JJ, who’d been her gate person, said. “You two were so beautiful out there. Maggie, I wish you could teach me to ride like that.”

“I do too.” She’d not been aware of the desire to teach until she heard herself say the words. A few months ago, she would have dismissed the thought out of hand. Now . . . was it possible? Could she convince someone she was capable of training horses?
Worthy
?

Breaking Free began a jig when he saw the boy in a wheelchair coming toward them so she dismounted and held her horse by the reins close to the bit. “You better stop there and let him get used to your chair.”

The boy nodded and halted. “Sorry. My name is Eddie Winters.”

“Hello, Eddie. I’m Maggie Roberts.” She watched her horse as he studied the wheelchair then blew a soft breath. “All right, come a bit closer.”

Eddie did as she told him and stopped again.

“Oops. Too close. He’s getting uptight,” the boy said, his eyes on Breaking Free.

She regarded the thin boy with the tanned arms. “How do you know that?”

“He raised his head real high, his nostrils flared, and he got stiff.”

A quick lesson in not judging by appearances
, she thought, chagrined that she of all people had viewed the wheelchair and not the horseman in it. She beckoned him to come forward again since Breaking Free had settled back down. He rolled a few feet closer.

“I’ve been riding at Rescue Ranch for two years. Well, almost.” Eddie eased his chair forward, and Breaking Free lowered his head, reaching his nose to sniff and inspect the contraption. Eddie moved a couple of feet, stopped, and waited, intently watching the horse.

“Eddie, that’s close enough. That horse doesn’t know you.”