by Lisa Wingate
He cleared his throat, and the onlookers froze like kids engaged in a game of Mother May I. “I like it,” he said, rocking to his heels and looking around the ranch.
On the driveway, Dane’s family had finished petting the team of horses pulling the hay wagon. Monique was laughing and talking with the driver as he handed her one of a set of twins adopted from Africa. The rest of the kids dashed ahead to see Corley and the pony.
Dane watched them bolt toward him. “It’s a good project,” he remarked, as if we’d suddenly become an afterthought. “Good message. Well done.” He turned and headed toward his family.
Lauren, Willie, and I exchanged glances, wondering, no doubt, the same thing: Is that a yes, a no … a maybe? I had a sense that the lot of us were still hanging in agonizing limbo—except Justin, who seemed content just to have finally succeeded with Lucky Strike. Laying his forehead against Lucky Strike’s, he closed his eyes and traveled inside himself to a place that had nothing to do with the film. I stood watching him, taking in the moment as a look of peace settled over him. A soft breeze circled the round pen, ruffled the horse’s mane, and caught Justin’s cowboy hat. Neither of them noticed as the wind lifted it and sent the crown of the horseman floating away. Justin only whispered something to the horse, and the horse nickered in return, and they remained in their weary embrace, finally in harmony with one another.
One of Dane’s daughters, a stocky-legged little girl from some south-sea island, reached him, and he scooped her up, asked her if she wanted to go see the pony. They started off in that direction while the rest of us stood in suspended animation, wondering what to do next. Push for an answer? Wait longer? Follow along behind Dane? Give him some time to relax and entertain his kids?
The little girl put her hand to his ear, leaned close and whispered something. “Yes, we are,” Dane said, then glanced back at me. “How soon can I have the remainder of the script? A month? Six weeks?”
“Your choice.” I sounded amazingly calm, considering that my head was exploding and I felt like I’d just scratched off the million-dollar Lotto ticket. “You tell me. I’ll get it ready.” If I have to glue myself to the chair and live on Starbucks and NoDoz, I’ll get it ready. It occurred to me that the magnum opus I’d started and restarted a hundred times, the piece I’d moved to the mountains to write, would have to wait, and I didn’t care. My mind was filled with The Horseman, with all the lives it could touch, with all the people who believed in it. I saw them standing on the porches of the old ranch house—Donetta, Imagene, Lucy, Bob, Brother Ervin, Pastor Harve, Miss Beedie, the boys from the Countertop Coffee Club, and a few dozen more Dailyians, all looking our way, piling their hopes on the wind, waiting for a sign.
Tapping a forefinger in the air, Dane gave me an appraising look. “Give it the time it needs. It’s fine work so far. Excellent sense of the character. Good writing. Keep on with what you’ve been doing.”
“I … yes, I will.” Be calm, be cool, I told myself, swallowing the seventy-six piece band in my chest. Don’t act like an amateur. Act like this happens every day. “I’m pleased that you like it. Thank you for the vote of confidence.” Good job. Perfect. Friendly, but not desperate. Grateful, yet not groveling.
“It’s well deserved. You’ve dug down and found the heart of this story. That’s a writer’s job.” Dane met my gaze very directly, giving the sense of a man much more complicated than the tabloid hype indicated. I had a feeling he was someone I would enjoy working with, someone who really could do justice to the story of The Horseman. “I’ve been waiting a long while for a project that seemed … worth the time.”
“This one is,” I said, and the words conveyed a belief I didn’t have to manufacture.
“I agree.” Dane put his hand out and shook mine. With a last glance toward Justin and Lucky Strike, he headed off to join his family, and I stood slightly numb, basking in the glow.
Doug was nowhere in my head. There wasn’t a whisper of him, not even in the most remote corner, and suddenly I knew that was what I’d been seeking all along. I wanted to create something that was only good, that didn’t come from fear or loathing, insecurity or financial need, self-recrimination or self-doubt, that had no part of the past in it, but came only from a hope of what could be.
The dark corners were gone now. There was no place for Doug to hide.
Lauren smiled at me, and I knew she understood. “I think that’s a yes,” she whispered. “He said to keep on with what you’ve been doing.” Her eyes were the soft green of spring grass, dewy with joy, and I was lost in them instantly.
“I guess that means more late hours in the beauty shop,” I answered.
“I guess so.”
“And besides, there’s still the Bigfoot mystery to solve.”
“That’s true.”
“We might need to stake out the place. … ”
“We might.” Her lips spread wide in a smile that was dazzling, and for the first time, all the sadness in her seemed to float away. “You did it,” she whispered, the words glittering with joy and pride that made me feel larger than I was.
“We did it,” I corrected, and she threw her head back, smiling triumphantly, her hair swirling in the breeze. She opened her arms, and I took her in mine, lifted her from her feet as if she were lighter than air, and twirled her into the barnyard as she laughed.
If I’d been writing the scene for film, it would have been the one in which the music rose to a crescendo, and the boy knew this girl was different from anyone he’d ever met. His mind and heart and soul would tell him he was falling in love, and so was she.
The moment would be perfect, and the ranch would fade into the cool shadows of evening, and then the credits would roll, because there was nothing more to say.
Except, of course, that they lived happily ever after.
Chapter 23
Lauren Eldridge
As the world spun around me, I saw Willie punch a fist into the air in triumph. Applause and cheers erupted near the old house. I thought of Aunt Donetta, my father, Brother Ervin, Pastor Harve, and Harvard Jr.—all the people who had loved me since the day I was born. I thought of Daily, the place that had made me, and broken me, and waited patiently for me to stop clinging to fear, stop running, and come home again.
Nate set me on my feet as Amber ran squealing across the barnyard. “That was awesome!” She cheered, then tackled me with an effervescent hug, and suddenly, everybody was hugging everybody. My father hugged Nate, Willie hugged my father, my father hugged Amber, Amber hugged Willie, Willie and Amber hugged Nate in a three-way. Nate looked embarrassed. Amber took his hand and Willie’s and dragged them off to the round pen to give Justin the good news about Dane.
My father slipped his arm around me as we watched them go. “That was somethin’ to see,” he said, then lifted a hand to give Aunt Netta the high sign. By the food tent, Aunt Netta held her hands clasped and raised them high in the air, like an Olympic athlete declaring victory.
“Yes, it was,” I agreed.
“I wondered there for a minute,” Dad admitted.
“I did, too.”
Dad squeezed my shoulder, pulling me off balance so that I teetered on one foot, using him for support. As always, he kept me from falling. We stood for a minute, just taking everything in, then Dad nudged my shoulder and pointed toward the round pen. “Look there,” he whispered, close to my ear.
I followed his line of vision to the fence, where Lucky Strike’s nanny goat had spotted an abandoned Dr. Pepper atop a post. After eyeing it from several angles, she rose onto her hind legs, walked a few steps, then braced her front hooves on the corral fence, and stretched out her neck, trying to reach.
In silhouette, she was seven feet tall and hairy, manlike …
“Could be that solves a certain mystery,” Dad observed, his mustache twitching upward when I looked at him.
“I guess it does.” I felt a twinge of disappointment. “Too bad, though. There won’t be nea
rly as much to talk about at the café now.”
Dad chuckled, his body shaking up and down. “Well, we could keep it our secret a while. Just between you and me.”
“We could,” I agreed, thinking that Nate and I might get to have our stakeout after all.
“Shame to spoil a good mystery,” Dad said. “After all, what’s a little town without its secrets?”
“I’d hate to think.”
Dad chuckled again, and I knew we’d entered into a silent pact. The true identity of the Daily Sasquatch was safe for now.
“Guess I better get back and give some pony rides,” Dad said finally. He gave me another squeeze, and I wrapped my arms around his middle, holding on tight.
“I love you.” The words trembled from my throat, weighted with emotion, heavy with so many other things I wanted to say, but I knew if I started, tears would come. This wasn’t a moment for tears.
My father sniffed and rubbed his mustache, then cleared his throat. “Oh, I know it.” His voice was hoarse, soft like the evening air. “I’ve always known that. You’re a good girl. You never been a disappointment to me, ever, Pug. I want to tell you that. Your mama always said, That Puggy can do anythin’, and she was right.”
I chuckled silently at my father’s old habit of attributing compliments to my mom because he was embarrassed to deal them out himself. “Dad, Mom never called me Puggy.” One thing my mother never approved of was the fact that my father had christened her little girl with such an unflattering handle.
“I know it,” Dad chuckled, his chin gently ruffling my hair. “But you been my little Puggy since the very minute I first laid eyes on you. I’d never seen anythin’ so fine in my whole life.” He kissed me on the top of my head, then balanced me on my feet. Across the way, the Dane kids were impatient for pony rides. “Welcome home, Puggy.”
I watched my father walk away to the small corral, where Justin had slipped through the fence to help Corley dismount the pony. My father entered the round pen, untied the pony’s lead rope, and handed it to Corley. Grabbing one of the little Dane girls by the waist, my father swung her into the saddle. In my mind, I knew just how the motion would feel—his strong hands under my arms, the high swing through the air, the plop into the saddle, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to force a giggle out. And then the words, “There you go, young lady. How about a ride? Hang on now, cowgirl. He’s a wild ’un.” My father was never too busy to hold the rope while I rode around in circles.
“Guess that’ll clinch the deal.” I heard Nate’s voice, and I turned to him.
“I guess it will.”
He smiled slightly, his eyes catching the light of evening, turning warm brown. “I wasn’t worried, were you?”
“No way.”
Nate looked into my eyes, and all the other thoughts seemed insignificant. I knew he would kiss me, and I didn’t care who was watching. A warmth slipped over me that made everything feel right, and perfect, gold and crimson and edged with pearl like the clouds in the darkening sky behind him. There was no need to hide any longer, no need to pull away. I abandoned myself to the kiss, let go of everything and just allowed myself to live fully in the moment.
When our lips parted, I was conscious of someone tugging at my shirt. I looked down, expecting one of the Dane children, but the goat was there, nibbling on my hem. Apparently, she’d given up on the Dr. Pepper. Laughing, I pushed her away, and she stood back and bleated at me, giving me a keen look, as if she knew I’d figured out her secret.
“Guess your girlfriend’s worried,” I told Nate.
Nate chuckled, then shooed her away. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“That’s good to know.”
His grin made something tighten and flutter deep inside me, and this time I didn’t tether the emotion to the weight of regrets and sadness, guilt and apprehension. I let it take wing and soar. I allowed myself to feel it, to revel in it, to believe it was possible for life to move from what had been to what could be—for Nate and me, for Willie and my father, for Aunt Donetta and the town of Daily. I thought once more of Harvard Jr., who had saved my life and sacrificed his own. After all, what good is a life saved if you fail to live it?
Turning in Nate’s arms, I gazed past the old house, watched it become a shadow as the horizon dimmed and the hammers went silent. I thought of all the lives that would intersect here, through film and through the children who would come to this place, and discover that no matter where you’ve been, or what you’ve done, or what has been done to you, it’s all right to stop running and let yourself be loved.
It’s more than all right. It is the thing that matters most. Peace doesn’t lie in all that we run to, in the independence we struggle to maintain, in the things we embrace that don’t embrace us in return. It is not in the noise of the world, but rests in the quiet place we last look. It waits until we stop running, stop battling the fences, stop searching outside and look toward the center. There, in the very heart of who we are and what we were created to be, we find it—the greatest thing in this world or the next, the very essence of God.
We turn toward the Good Horseman, and He opens His arms, and we come into His presence, where there is love enough to cover everything.
Discussion Questions
1. In the beginning of the story, Lauren ponders whether it’s possible to ever really leave behind your roots. What do you think? Where are your roots and how have they shaped the way you live today?
2. Daily is struggling to retain its identity in the face of sudden fame. Lauren observes some changes when she arrives in her hometown. In what ways do fame or sudden prosperity change a community? Are these changes positive, negative, or both?
3. As Nate’s story begins, he is struggling with the choice of continuing his destructive friendship with Justin or calling it quits. When we are involved in painful relationships, how should we make the decision between self-preservation and self-sacrifice? Is there ever a time to let go? If so, when? Why do you think Nate goes to Daily with Justin, even though he’s told himself he won’t?
4. Justin’s friendship with Amber has changed his behavior in ways that are not typical for him. Have you ever experienced a friendship or chance encounter with someone who changed your way of thinking?
5. Amber and Justin have both experienced the mega-fame American culture seems to crave, yet they have responded to it very differently. Why? What things determine the choices we make in using the resources we’re given?
6. Themes of guilt and forgiveness run throughout the novel. How can a failure to accept forgiveness trap us? Do you see applications for the sermon of the Good Horseman in your own life or the lives of people you know? In what ways?
7. Many characters in the story are in the position of Lucky Strike, struggling between a new option and an old habit. Have you or someone you’ve known ever experienced something similar? What was the result? What made the difference?
8. The nanny goat is integral to Lucky Strike’s healing. Have you ever been given a “nanny goat” when you needed one? Who or what was it?
9. Lauren realizes that in pulling away from her family and friends and trying to control her own healing, she has weakened her ability to recover from her grief. How are our families, friends, communities, and church families integral to surviving difficult times? In view of this, why do we sometimes choose to keep our struggles to ourselves?
10. Nate begins to consider that the secret to life might not be in getting past previous traumas but in looking at how those traumas have shaped us for a specific purpose. Do you see ways in which your past experiences, good or bad, have prepared you for a specific purpose?
11. Late in the story, Donetta tells Nate that sometimes God puts a new path under our feet because He knows we’re ready, even if we don’t know it yet. Have you ever been pushed toward something you didn’t think you were ready for? How did you react? What happened in the end?
Table of Contents
Cover
Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Discussion Questions