Horse Power

by Nancy Loyan

  “Funny you should ask. I just talked to her recently.”

  “Really, this should be interesting.”

  “More interesting is how Penelope befriended her.” Travis explained how Shelby took charge, drove, and helped Pen navigate the hospitals.”

  “So Penelope gave you her number?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You called her?”

  “Of course. Shelby is amazing. She wants me at the riding center’s grand opening in a few months.”

  “She actually used the money on the center?”

  “Exactly as intended. Shelby’s a decent person, Paul. Being a lawyer, you’ve dealt with far too many crooks and scumbags.”

  Paul chuckled.

  “Shelby has a great idea. She wants me to be a patient at her center. They will have suites for boarding and physical therapy, as well as horse therapy.”

  “Wait. After all this shit, you want to get on a horse again?”

  “Of course. I’d never give up on horses. It wasn’t Lancer’s fault that I fell. It was on me for participating in a dangerous sport, like polo.”

  “No more polo?”

  “I do think I’ll pass on future polo matches. I’ll make that concession.”

  “Sounds like you have plans. Any word on when you’ll be back to your old self, and walking again?”

  “One thing about doctors is that they won’t talk specifics, or make promises. My personal goal is six months. I’m working my butt off, and I want to surprise the hell out of everyone.”

  “Six months, eh?”

  “I’m determined.” Travis had set the goal, knowing that he needed some date to strive for, some benchmark to attain. Without hope, he knew that he would sink into a depression. He was banking on hope to keep his spirit alive.

  “Hey, I haven’t seen you miss a goal yet. Hell, even in that polo match, I heard you made a goal before taking the tumble.”

  “I did? That’s good to know. I don’t remember much from that night.”

  “Just as well, I’d think. You know, as crazy as it sounds, this whole ordeal may actually be a good thing for you.”

  “How could you say that?”

  “Think about it. You were destined to marry Penelope, making the biggest mistake of your life. The wedding is now on hold, essentially off. You were going to move to Lexington to manage a thoroughbred racing program, a sport and a job you detest. It’s now on indefinite hold. Old man Collingsworth is left holding the bag, moneybags. This Shelby chick is now a part of your future. Hell, you’d be staying at her facility, getting to know her better. Who knows where that will lead? You know, you’ve been given the change you desperately needed. All of it without controversy.”

  “I never thought of it that way.”

  “This episode may actually be life-altering in a good way.”

  Horsepower. Shelby stood outside admiring the golden script on the burnished wood sign set on a river stone platform that graced the entrance to her new facility. Horsepower. What had once been a dream was now a reality. She wanted to pinch herself for coming such a long way. The journey may have been rocky, but it led to this moment. Soon, her therapeutic riding center and rescue would soon be open for business.

  She scanned the white picket fencing creating a border around her property, the expansive lawn that was beginning to peep through the strewn hay, and the winding asphalt drive that led to the buildings and stables. Everything was more impressive than she had imagined when perusing blueprints with the architect and contractors. The main building with its peeked roof had a foundation of river stone, and was built of stained oak logs. A wide stone inlaid concrete walk led to the porch, which wrapped around the building with its rough, hewn posts and banisters. Connected to this building was another peeked-roof structure, a huge barn with an indoor riding arena. Both buildings featured copper-roofed cupolas with brass weathervanes of horses.

  To the far left was where it all began. Her white farmhouse and garage remained as original and quaint, without any modifications, except for the drive being paved asphalt instead of crushed stone. The old red barn stood beyond, and was still home to her original menagerie of horses. It was the only home they knew, and she didn’t want them to have to adapt to change. Upgrades and amenities were added to offer comfort to their well-being. She also wanted to keep her personal life separate from her business. Not wanting to forget her roots, some things were to remain the same. Living simply was still her preferred style. Additional resources were to be invested in her business, and toward the rescue of animals.

  Though the center was a nonprofit entity, it was still run like a business, and she called it such. Both her personal life, and the business were so intertwined it was often difficult to differentiate between the two. Her mind was on Horsepower day and night.

  She walked up the drive toward the main building. Workers were still putting on finishing touches and addressing punch list items. Her staff was inside holding training for volunteers. As she drew closer, she could hear the whinnying of the rescue therapy horses in their stalls. She had tested each animal for temperament, personality, and ability, and rated them for beginner, intermediate, or advanced mounts. She worked with the horses, and trained them to accept adaptive saddles and apparatus. Adults and children with special needs would be their mounts.

  When she reached the porch and took the stairs, next to the handicapped ramp, she stopped to read the bronze plaque attached near the entrance. It listed the name Horsepower, her name as owner, the year, and a thank you to the anonymous generous benefactor who made it possible. Swallowing hard, she wished that she could have posted the name Jonathan Travis Harrington III. She was so tempted to do so, but thought better of it, since he insisted on remaining in the background.

  Travis. From what she had heard, he was doing well in therapy. Progress, though, was very slow. She could imagine his frustration and impatience. If she couldn’t walk or ride, she would be a basket case. Just shoot me. Penelope had kept her informed. Of all the people to become friends with, who would have imagined? Apparently, Pen had been appreciative of Shelby’s concern and help the evening of Travis’ accident. Pen had admitted that she would have been at a loss as to what to do, if Shelby hadn’t taken charge. Shelby had been so used to taking charge of her life, that leadership was just second nature. At least, through, Pen, she had a lifeline to Travis, and was informed of his progress, or lack thereof.

  She walked around the porch, peeking in windows to see workers painting and installing light fixtures in the various rooms. She walked around the barn to the back. A huge fenced paddock took up space behind the barn, with an outdoor riding arena. To the left was a smaller barn that would house rescue horses, and a kennel for rescue dogs before they found new homes. A multi-story log cabin to the right was the rehabilitation center, where twenty clients could spend the night, weeks, or a few months for intensive physical therapy, in conjunction with Hippotherapy. Each client would have a small suite, like those found in an assisted living facility, to stay in during their visit. The experience would prepare them for adaptation to life beyond the farm when they returned to their old lives.

  Shelby thought of Travis. Staying at her rehabilitation center would be the next step in his treatment. How ironic that he donated to establish a facility that would aid in his own recovery. Who ever knew that when he broke down in front of her farmstead what his future would bring? Little did Shelby know that her dream would one day help him. She shook her head. Life had a strange way of going full circle.

  15

  Travis’s moods alternated between angry and frightened. Being dependent on others was not part of his nature. Not being able to walk and function normally caused frustration. Not knowing whether his condition was temporary, as he thought, or permanent added to his angst. He found himself lashing out at others.

  The physical and occupational therapists at the rehabilitation facility were often at the receiving end of his tirades. They were on
the front line of his care and fair game. Being wheeled down to the rehabilitation wing, he faced a cross between a spa and gym. Therapists would stretch and bend his legs, yet he couldn’t feel them doing so. What he wouldn’t give to be able to have feeling in his lower body, instead of an odd numbness, a slight tingle, and inability to move, no matter how hard he willed himself to do so. He was assisted up to standing position and centered between parallel bars. Using his arms to hold himself up, he couldn’t force himself to walk forward. He was dead weight. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he grunted and groaned to move. Yet, he was frozen in place.

  Later, he was taken to areas resembling a kitchen and bathroom in a home. Therapists and aids would go over rudimentary skills adapted to life in a wheelchair. They discussed adaptations to his living space. He would require a living environment on one floor, a ramp to compensate for stairs, handrails, wider doorways with lever knobs, counters at seated height, a walk-in shower and raised toilet with rails … there were so many adaptations and requirements it made his head spin. His suite at the rehabilitation center met all of his needs. No, he would not live the remainder of his life in such a facility. He was too young for assisted living.

  He assured himself, “This is only temporary.”

  Why was everyone treating him as if he faced a lifetime as an invalid?

  The embossed invitation arrived in the mail. Travis had been expecting it, yet dreading it. The ribbon cutting and grand opening of Horsepower was to take place in three weeks. His suite at the rehabilitation/equine facility had already been reserved. He would be seeing Shelby for the first time since the accident, and he would be touring the facility that he helped finance. Shelby’s dream was coming true, and he was happy for her. Arriving in a wheelchair, as a patient had not been his plan.

  Six months had passed since the accident, and Travis was no closer to walking than when he had entered rehab. Yes, he had slight sensation in his lower extremities, but nothing near recovery. He was physically stronger. The metallic red motorized scooter became his new best friend and aided in his mobility. It lacked the power and excitement of his Harley, and this added to his frustration. Now, he was trading one rehabilitation facility for another.

  Penelope called. She had received an invitation to Horsepower as well. His reunion with Shelby would include Penelope and his parents. Joy.

  The ivory tent that was erected on the grounds was large enough to house a three-ring circus, Shelby thought, as she perused the space being set up with round, white-clothed tables, china, tableware, and glasses. Towering floral arrangements of roses and ivy were set in lined riding boots serving as centerpieces. White folding chairs surrounded each table, awaiting guests. Waiters in red waistcoats were surrounding the caterer as she spewed orders for the evening. A wood dance floor and elevated stage were on one end of the area. The band was setting up their musical instruments and sound system. A warm breeze from fans heated the space from the bracing autumn chill.

  Shelby adjusted her midi floral dress, smoothing the silky material over her hips. One of those rare times when she dressed up, she had to adapt to wearing high heel pumps. This was a special occasion that demanded she get out of her comfort zone. It was the grand opening of Horsepower, and many prospective donors and benefactors would be attending. Most, she knew, were curious about the sprawling therapeutic riding center in the “middle of nowhere.” The “Blue Book” of Detroit, Chicago and their moneyed suburbs would be donning their finery for the ribbon cutting and gala party. None of them were important in Shelby’s mind. All she could think about was Travis. He would be attending his first event outside of the rehabilitation center in Connecticut. The best part was that he wasn’t going back. Instead, he would be moving in to the suites at Horsepower, as a client. She wanted to do him proud by putting on an event worthy of his generous donation. She also wanted to look her best for this special occasion. Heck, she even wore makeup and had her hair styled, a rarity.

  When the handicapped van pulled up the drive, the crowd had already gathered in front of the main building, taking places for the ribbon cutting. The mayor of her small hamlet, as well as county officials gathered near the taut red ribbon tied fast to the log pillars at the front entrance. The mayor held an oversized pair of gold-painted scissors.

  Shelby had just joined them, when the van pulled up, drawing everyone’s attention. It may as well have been a celebrity arriving on the red carpet in a limousine. To Shelby, it was one and the same. She knew that it was Travis. Behind the van was a Mercedes, from which Travis’ parents and Penelope emerged.

  Penelope was paparazzi ready in her clinging emerald gown, the shimmering silk fabric highlighting her features and figure. Shelby drew a deep breath, knowing that no one could compete with that. The Harrington’s immediately greeted her with a hug. Their touch of affection calmed Shelby’s sudden case of the jitters.

  “Lovely place,” Penelope said, eyelashes fluttering, as she perused the grounds.

  “Thank you,” Shelby replied, a whiff of Pen’s floral perfume tickling her nose.

  The van’s door opened, and the lift lowered. Travis was impeccably attired in a black tuxedo and bow tie, and looked really good for a patient in a wheelchair. Shelby just stared. In his hands, he held a bouquet of yellow roses. Pushing the chair’s power button to move forward off of the lift, he faced Shelby and handed her the flowers with a broad grin. She reached down and accepted the bouquet, brushing his hand slightly. For a moment everyone and everything just disappeared, and she was lost in Travis’ amber gaze.

  “Thank you,” she finally managed to say, looking up. She cleared her throat and stood straight.

  “Quite a crowd,” Travis said with a grin, and looking about, “The architecture is stunning.”

  “Wait until you tour the inside.”

  “I’m so proud of you, Shelby.”

  “Thank you,” she said, though it wasn’t enough.

  She wanted to blurt out how his funds made her dream possible. None of this would be happening if it were not for his generosity. Yet, she had to keep their secret. Her benefactor had to remain anonymous.

  “We’re ready for you?” Katherine “Kat” Gallagher, Horsepower’s Director of Marketing and Development interrupted.

  “Oh.” Shelby became aware of the crowd gathered around the taut ribbon.

  She followed the woman, who was a dark-haired version of herself, to the gathered crowd. Standing next to the mayor, who was decidedly shorter than she, she shared the scissors he had been holding.

  “Today, we are gathered for the grand opening of one of our township’s greatest assets, Horsepower therapeutic riding center and rescue. People, and animals, will have a special place to recover from physical and mental trauma, and overcome fears and obstacles. This facility is the vision of Shelby Shane, local horse and dog trainer. I am proud to join her in cutting the ribbon opening a wealth of opportunities for rehabilitation and recovery.”

  Shelby helped lift and manipulate the heavy scissors to cut the ribbon, and it fell away, opening a gateway to the entrance of the main building. Applause filled the air.

  “We are officially open,” Shelby said. “This is a moment I have dreamed about for years. Special thanks to a generous benefactor, and to all of you for making this possible. There will be guided tours of the buildings and stables throughout the evening. The main event is in the big tent. Let’s celebrate.”

  “Time for drinks,” Mr. Harrington said, leading his wife by the arm across the lawn to the big tent.

  Penelope was at Travis’ side, as he maneuvered the electric wheelchair. She had lifted her gown, and gingerly walked on the grass in her spiked-heeled sandals. Shelby watched as everyone present seemed to couple up, reminding her of the two and two of Noah’s Ark.

  “Hey, you’re the woman of the hour. Get moving,” Kat said, prodding.

  “I guess I am.” Shelby forced a smile, though she didn’t feel special. She was without a date. Well, except
for Kat, who was also solo.

  Kat was her newest employee and friend. A successful businesswoman, the opportunity to work for a nonprofit riding center lured her away from a career in Chicago. She told Shelby that she preferred animals to people. Tall, statuesque, with dark cascading hair and up-tilted green eyes, she had the grace of a feline. Her instincts and intelligence sold Shelby. She moved to rural Michigan to promote, and raise money for Horsepower. Their first joint project was arranging the grand opening and benefit party. Shelby was grateful for the expert advice and assistance.

  “Let’s enjoy the party. We worked hard enough,” Kat said.

  “Don’t I know?”

  * * *

  Shelby drew a deep breath as she entered the tent. It’s peeked ceiling added height that made the space appear less crowded. Guests were already milling around the long u-shaped bar. Glasses were raised in toasts, or waved like trophies. The scent of grilled seafood competed with perfume from designer clad ladies. Waiters weaved around mingling guests, serving trays of gourmet appetizers. The fare disappeared as quickly as it was served. Voices were reduced to loud chatter that was unintelligible. Shelby zigzagged through the crowd toward the bar. She lost Kat to schmoozing benefactors along the way. Funny, it was her facility and, yet, she felt like the outsider. Most of the guests were socially connected. She was just a country girl down on the farm.

  “Some Chardonnay,” she ordered.

  Taking the wine, she sipped it as she walked around the perimeter of the room, watching the guests in all of their finery being social. This wasn’t her world. Her comfort zones were in the barn with the horses, or in her home with her dogs.

  “Miss Shane, we finally meet.”

  She turned to face a tall, slender man around Travis’ age. A mop of curly red hair brushed over his forehead. His green eyes flickered like faceted emeralds as they perused her.