The Gift: A Horse, a Boy, and a Miracle of Love

by Lauraine Snelling

  Jonah nodded and strangled the reins.

  “Easy, Son. Good riders have light hands.”

  Jonah relaxed his hand and received a nod of approval.

  “Okay, Cody.” Mac walked a few paces, then stopped and played out the lunge line so Cody walked farther away.

  “Okay, Jonah. Gently pull back on the reins until Cody stops.”

  Cody halted, and Jonah’s eyes widened to match his smile.

  “Now, move your hand forward to signal him to move again.”

  They repeated the drill several times as Cody made his placid way around the corral.

  “Keep your reins even. Good. Right there.”

  Mac tugged his hat farther down. About time to go in before they got blown off the earth.

  Cody had walked to the end of the lunge line, at the far side of the corral, when a blue scarf fluttered across the open space.

  Before Mac had time to react, Cody reared and leaped to the side to dodge the attacking missile.

  Jonah sailed through the air and hit the ground in a belly flop.

  Ten

  “Jonah! Oh my! Oh dear!” Rebecca catapulted into the solid wall of Mac’s outflung arm. “Let me go!” Get out of my way! Can’t you see my son is hurt?

  “Leave him be; he’ll be all right.” Please God, let it be so. That troublesome blue scarf . . .

  “What kind of inhumane monster are you?” She ripped at the arm holding her. “Let me go!”

  “You go to the fence and let me tend to him.”

  “He’s my son!” He’s choking and you won’t let me through. I swear I’ll sue you for every . . .

  “I know.” His voice lost its edge of command and the softness melted her.

  “You’ll stay here?”

  Her nod freed him to move toward the coughing boy, who was already pushing himself to a sitting position. Please, Lord, let it be no worse than I think. I’ve been through this so many times before and she hasn’t.

  Mac squatted by Jonah. “Easy, Son, you’ve just had the wind knocked out of you. You’ll be okay in a minute or so.”

  Jonah coughed again and finally sucked in enough air to be reassuring. His red eyes took up half his face.

  “Breathe easy. That’s right.”

  Cody stood on the other side of Jonah, his nose nearly touching the boy’s head. His ears pricked forward, and Mac would have sworn the horse had tears in his eyes.

  “See, Cody is trying to apologize. He feels bad he was frightened, but it wasn’t his fault; the scarf blew almost in his face. Horses get frightened like anyone else. He didn’t mean to dump you like that.”

  Jonah looked up at the horse and wiped the dust from his eyes, eyes that leaked cleansing tears. He tried to shrug away, but Cody whuffled in his ear. Jonah couldn’t help but smile and finally reached up and rubbed Cody’s nose.

  The horse sighed, as if in relief, and lowered his head even more.

  “Do you hurt anywhere?” Mac kept a close watch to see if Jonah flinched with any movement.

  Jonah rubbed his chest.

  “Good thing you had that heavy jacket and the helmet on, huh? They helped cushion you.”

  Jonah nodded and let Mac take his hand to pull him to his feet.

  “That’s the way. Feeling much better now?”

  “Are you sure?” Rebecca stood right behind Mac. He hadn’t heard her approach, he’d been so focused on Jonah.

  Jonah looked at his mother and nodded again. He leaned into her when she put her arms around him, but when they started to walk away, Mac grabbed Jonah’s arm.

  “No, you don’t. Time to get back up on Cody and finish your ride.”

  Matching looks of openmouthed horror stared back at him.

  Over my dead body, you monster. You want my son maimed for life? She clung to Jonah’s arm. “I think he’s had enough for today.”

  Lord, give me strength. “You have to get back on now so you will always be able to keep riding.” Mac kept his voice even and his gaze on Jonah, ignoring Rebecca. “Falls are part of the picture like sore shins if you play soccer. Come on, we’ll lead him over to the tub.”

  All the while Mac spoke so gently, Jonah shook his head.

  Rebecca shook her head, teeth gritted, and added a frown that would frighten Superman.

  It didn’t faze Mac.

  “Jonah, get back up on the horse, now.” His quiet steel brought Jonah’s chin up and fire to Rebecca’s eyes.

  Jonah shook his head.

  “Mac, no.” Rebecca tried to kill him with her eyes. He’s not one of your cowboys; he’s a frightened little boy.

  Dear God, make her give in. Help her realize her boy’s future is at stake.

  “Trust me, Rebecca. It’s for the best.” With one motion, he swept Jonah up in his arms and set him on the horse.

  “Nooooooooo.” Jonah’s scream bounced off the barn walls and echoed across the valley. He choked the saddle horn with both hands, tears streaming down his face.

  Dear God, he breathed. Thank You, Jesus. Mac glanced over his shoulder to see Rebecca’s reaction, joy bursting like a geyser in his own heart.

  “He—he—Jonah, you can talk.” Instantaneous tears streaming, Rebecca started toward her son.

  But Mac strong-armed her back to keep her from touching Jonah. “He has to do this,” he hissed, hoping and praying she would give him even another two minutes.

  “You masochistic monster. I swear if he is hurt, I’ll kill you.”

  “I know, but he’s not. Give him time.”

  All the while they argued, spitting words through clenched teeth, Mac kept his attention on Jonah as the rigidity left his back and he sat back in the saddle. His feet found the stirrups and finally he swallowed and looked to Mac.

  “I hate you.” Jonah’s words came clearly and distinctly, each consonant and vowel like a tap against crystal.

  Mac kept a smile from breaking his icy lips. “Be that as it may, you will ride now. I will lead you around the corral.”

  He talked; my son spoke actual words. Rebecca wrapped her arms around herself and watched as Jonah clutched the saddle horn again while Mac led Cody forward. He spoke. He can talk. The words drummed in her brain. And I don’t think he even realizes it. Mac does, though. I can see it in his face. But how could he be so insufferably cruel as to make Jonah get back up on Cody?

  But Jonah can talk again.

  “Okay, Jonah, how are you doing?” Mac looked over his shoulder with a smile.

  Although his eyes were still huge, the boy now rode easy in the saddle.

  “I know you are mad at me, but someday you’ll know that I did this for your best. By riding, you make Cody feel better, too. He tried to apologize back there, you know.”

  “I know.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Mac saw Jonah lean forward and pat Cody’s neck.

  “You want to get off now?”

  “Ye—n—ye—no.”

  “Was that a no?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, yes, you want to keep riding, and no, you don’t want to get off.”

  “Mr. McNeally!” The tone wore the patina of a child politely remonstrating with an adult.

  Mac stopped and turned around to lay a hand on Jonah’s leg. “You can call me Mac, Son. We’re too good of friends for me to be Mr. McNeally. Okay?”

  Jonah nodded and patted Cody again.

  They circled the corral one more time before Mac had Jonah dismount.

  Once on the ground again, Jonah threw both arms around Cody’s neck when the horse lowered his head for a horse cookie. “Thank you, Cody.” Cody whuffled Jonah’s hair and nosed at his pocket for another snack. Rebecca, still casting daggers at Mac, shivered in the chill wind t
hat had kicked up. How can I thank a horse that might have killed my son? And the man who . . . ?

  How can you not . . . ? The voice overrode her arguments. She faced Mac.

  “We are more grateful than I can say, Mr. McNeally. My son can talk.” She blinked back tears. “Come, Jonah, we need to get going.”

  “All right.” Jonah took the reins from Mac and led Cody back to the barn, shoved open the door, and led him inside.

  The two adults followed without a word between them.

  If I say one more word, I’ll start to cry and never stop. She sniffed again.

  Rebecca, how can I reach you? This should be a happy time. Let it go. Mac kept his arms at his side by sheer force of will.

  Not much later, Mac waved them good-bye and sighed. Why can’t she be grateful her son is talking rather than being hung up on how it all came about?

  Sometimes it takes one tragedy to cure another; but this, while scary, wasn’t a tragedy at all, but only a small bump in the road. Jonah was talking, and he wasn’t afraid of the horse or riding. He’d made huge strides and all for the love of a horse.

  His mother, on the other hand, was stuck in her fear and resentment. Lord, at least she got her Christmas wish. Her son can talk again. And Cody had a friend for a while. Perhaps they’ll come again. We’ll see.

  He shook his head. He sounded so philosophical and accepting, and yet his heart felt like someone had left open the barn door with a gale blowing in the dead of winter.

  Eleven

  Rebecca Marie Wilkinson, you owe that man an apology!

  “Hey, Mom?” Jonah, who had hardly stopped talking since they left the ranch those few hours before, called from the bathroom, where he was playing in the tub.

  Her son’s call sent a thrill through her that zipped down to her toes and back to the top of her head, warming fingers and creasing her face in a smile without any effort on her part. He can talk again; Jonah is talking. She’d called her folks and Gordon’s and, while Jonah was a bit shy, he had talked with them. Her mother-in-law had been crying when they hung up. So had she.

  “Yes?” She ambled down the hall and leaned against the doorjamb. “What do you need?”

  Jonah let bubbles drift down his arm. “When are we going back out to the ranch so I can see Cody?”

  “You want to ride again?”

  He nodded. “Cody needs me.”

  “I see.” How can I go out there without apologizing first? After all, it was my scarf that caused all the problems. Guilt dug into her heart, ripping like a serrated dagger. My scarf. My carelessness. If Jonah had been really injured, how would I ever forgive myself?

  “So when?” He looked up at her, his eyes full of questions. “Are you still mad at Mac?”

  “Mr. McNeally.”

  Jonah shook his head. “No, he said I should call him Mac.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “After I fell off. When we were walking around the corral.”

  “Oh.” So why didn’t he tell me?

  Because you didn’t give the man a chance to say two words. You hustled Jonah in the car and drove off as if you were fleeing an attempted murder. And the whole thing was your own fault.

  She never had liked these inner arguments, especially when that little voice was right.

  “Guess I can give him a call. Might have to wait until after Christmas now. He is probably pretty busy.”

  “Oh. But you’ll call him?”

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah, now.”

  She tried. The line was busy. She heaved a sigh of relief.

  Mac lay under the kitchen sink, the raised flooring cutting into his back. The aging pipes were not responding to a pipe wrench. His neighbor, Mrs. Fitch, who always said she was older than dirt, had called to report a stopped-up sink and, when first the plunger then the Drano didn’t work, he’d gone out for the snake, only to find it not in his truck.

  Confound that young pup, he thought. What will it take to convince him to put things back? So far orders, scoldings, and reprimands hadn’t worked with his young helper. Maybe I’ll dock his pay; that ought to get his attention. Of course before Randy had fallen in love, he’d been a good and dependable helper. But ever since he’d asked Lisa to marry him . . . nada.

  Mac squirmed to get a better position.

  “Can I help you?” The cigarette-scarred voice of his neighbor grated on his nerves—the three remaining nerves that screamed at him from the most-likely permanent crease in his back.

  “No thanks, I’ll have it in a minute.”

  “Okay, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

  He leaned back and muttered. “When it’s only me and the pipes, things go a lot smoother. Pipes are easier to fix than people any day of the week.” Thoughts of a certain mother who had threatened to kill him for injuring her son flitted through his mind. And after all, the whole thing was her fault anyway. She was the one who wore the scarf that got loose and scared poor Cody half out of his wits. Poor horse, poor kid, poor . . .

  He gave a mighty yank on the pipe wrench, and greasy, slimy water gushed out of the pipe and into his face. Thinking words that any good plumber uses with impunity, he bailed out from under the sink, wiping his face and wishing he were anywhere but there.

  “I thought I would bring him in to see you, just so you could meet the real Jonah.” Rebecca sat across from Amy Cartwright, the speech therapist. “He hasn’t stopped talking since he started. It’s wonderful.”

  “So tell me what happened.”

  Rebecca told her the entire story and leaned back in her chair. “Pretty amazing, wouldn’t you say?”

  Amy nodded, her smile lighting her eyes. “Leave it to Mac. That man has a heart big as Tehachapi Mountain.”

  “You know him?”

  “Of course. He goes to my church. When you live in Tehachapi long enough, you get to know about everyone.”

  “Really?” More a statement than a question, Rebecca turned to look over her shoulder through the one-way window, where Jonah played with a truck on the floor, making truck sounds as he drove the rig over a bridge he’d made of blocks. The bridge fell down and his laughter made his mother smile.

  Along with the therapist.

  “So what about you?”

  Rebecca turned back. “Me?”

  “Yes, I can see what a difference returning speech has made for Jonah, but what about you?”

  Rebecca shrugged. “I’m happy and grateful and . . .”

  “Now you have to let him grow up, you know. Let him do boy things and make decisions on his own.”

  “Are you saying I baby Jonah?” Her defenses rose like hackles on a dog. The thought of a man’s shock at her cutting her son’s meat zapped through her mind.

  “Rebecca, I’m not accusing you. I really understand. When one has a child with a problem, our tendency is to try to make up for it, to make life easier.”

  Rebecca gripped her purse until her right forefinger ached, the one she’d once caught at the end with a softball. “I think it is time to go.”

  “I understand. But I do have your best interest at heart. Listen to him.” They waited while Jonah brought the truck to a screeching halt, then smiled at each other.

  “Thank you for your help.” Rebecca rose and extended her hand.

  “Ah, no.” The therapist came around the desk and gave Rebecca a warm hug. “Merry Christmas and what a wonderful present you received. Thank you for giving me one, too.”

  After an instant’s hesitation, Rebecca hugged her back. “You are most welcome. Come on, Jonah. Get your coat.” She waited while Jonah put on his coat and caught the smile in the therapist’s gaze. “Merry Christmas indeed.”

  Once in the SUV, after he snapped his seat belt,
Jonah turned to her. “Did you call Mac?”

  Won’t he ever let up? Rebecca shook her head. “Yes, but the line was busy.” No way I’ll tell him I tried only once. “I’ll try again when we get home.”

  “There, what do you think?” Mac stepped back from placing the star on the top of the Christmas tree.

  Danielle cocked her head and studied the decorations on the traditional pine tree in the corner of the great room. The white twinkle lights reflected in the huge window that overlooked the deck and Cummins Valley.

  “We could have put more lights on.”

  “You always say that. We used all the strings and it took over an hour. I’d say we have enough.”

  “D–a–ad.”

  He slung an arm over her shoulders and drew her close to his side. “We didn’t get a new ornament for this year.” Since the children were little, every year they’d all gone shopping for a special ornament for the tree, one everyone had to agree on.

  “I found us one in Vail. I’ll go get it.” Danielle ducked from under his arm and headed back for her bedroom.

  She looks more like her mother every day, Mac thought, as he glanced at a picture of his wife on the mantel. You’d be so proud of her. Gleaming brown hair that swung straight from a center part, laughing hazel eyes, a pert, slightly turned-up nose, and a smile that could break a father’s heart with its beauty.

  The phone rang and, still thinking about his two girls, Mac answered.

  “McNeally here.”

  “Mac, please don’t say anything because I have to get this out while I still can. I’m sorry for the way I acted out in the corral, I’m sorry my scarf blew off like that, and I’m sorry I never told you thank you for helping Jonah talk again.” Rebecca sucked in a deep breath and let it all out to hear a gentle chuckle come over the line.

  “Is that all?”

  “Is there something else?” She heard the squeak on the last word.

  “Not that I know of.”

  She sighed again. “Good. Now Jonah would like to come out and see Cody.”