Maple Dale ~ My Forever Home (Maple Dale Series)
Page 5
He took off running to the end of the arena again and came back and did the same abrupt stop and literally crashed into the gate. Not enough to hurt himself, but enough to have Mrs. Butchling and Hillary holding their breath and fearing the worst for a moment.
“He wants to run, but apparently he’s more afraid of being left alone,” Hillary said.
Mrs. Butchling patted the horse on the neck. “You’re going to have to settle down, old buddy. Don’t worry. You’re not alone, not anymore at least.” She looked at Hillary. “Do you think he was abandoned at one point?”
Hillary looked into the horse’s eyes. “I don’t think so. Not exactly.”
The horse took off running again.
“What do you mean, not exactly?”
“Genetics. DNA. Hereditary traits. I think if physical characteristics can be passed on, so can fears. They’ve done studies on humans that seem to support even prejudice can be passed on from generation to generation. I think the same can be said of horses.”
The horse rolled, stood up and shook, and then took off running. Again, the same last-second stop, this time crashing considerably harder into the gate - even with Hillary and Mrs. Butchling waving their arms to try to get him to stop sooner.
He rubbed up against their hands, then turned and started trotting around the perimeter of the arena, tail up, head held high, and snorting. “Maybe he’ll settle down once Mindy gets down here with some hay,” Mrs. Butchling said.
When Mindy had gone into the barn to get it, grabbing a bucket also to give him water, she saw the note her mother had written on the blackboard. The very same blackboard Leah Oliver had used to leave notes for the blacksmith and her students years ago when she was still alive.
Mindy, where are you? I counted all the horses. They are all here! Why aren’t you answering your phone? Call me! Mom
“Oh boy.” She used the barn phone and dialed home. “Mom?”
“Where have you been?”
“Um, at the barn. My cellphone battery is dead.”
“I looked for you. There was another car there too.”
“Oh yeah, that’s Hillary’s. What’s going on? Everything okay?”
“Yes. That’s why I was trying to reach you. Bethann and the baby are being discharged at one-thirty. Dad and I are going to give them an hour or so to get situated and settled in and go over. We want you to meet us there.”
“Okay. About two-thirty?”
“Yes. That’s good.”
“Okay. See you at Bethann’s. Gotta run.”
“Mindy? Are you up to something?”
“Mom, what would I be up to? Seriously.” Mindy hung up the phone, loaded the gator with a bale of hay and bucket and headed down over the hill to the lower arena. Mrs. Butchling and Hillary turned when they heard her enter the breezeway.
“I’m not sure we’re going to be able to leave him down here,” Mrs. Butchling said.
“Why?” Mindy set the bale of hay off to the side of the breezeway, used her pocket knife to open it and tossed the horse two flakes of hay.
Hillary filled the water bucket with the hose. “He’s exhibiting some separation anxiety behavior characteristics.”
“Them’s big words, Ma’am,” Mindy said, chuckling.
Hillary laughed. She’d obviously been studying too hard lately. “He doesn’t seem to like being by himself.”
The three of them watched as the horse started eating his hay, one mouthful, look up – chew chew, another mouthful, look up – chew chew, all normal behavior but for the underlying and yet very evident fear in his eyes.
“Is there anyone we can turn out with him?” Mrs. Butchling asked.
“Not really,” Mindy said. “Not without knowing anything about how he’ll behave.”
Mrs. Butchling nodded and shared what the young girl at the farmhouse said, “He could be a nice horse.”
“That could mean anything,” Hillary said.
“True, yes. But it was the way she said it.”
“It’s not like we can go back there and ask for clarification,” Mindy said, smiling.”He’ll be fine. Come on, he’s only been here half an hour. And look how well he trailered.”
“I don’t know,” Hillary said. “He’s clamming up.”
“Clamming up?” Mrs. Butchling and Mindy both looked at her with the same expression. “Clamming up?”
“He’s refusing to communicate.”
Mindy chuckled. “Are you using them big words? Maybe it’s your vocabulary.”
All three laughed. The horse even seemed a little amused. He was chewing less obsessively.
“Well, he doesn’t look underfed.”
“That was the problem. He was going to end up as somebody’s steak tartare,” Hillary said.
Mrs. Butchling frowned. “No. What I meant was, he takes good care of himself.”
The horse picked up his head. He apparently liked hearing that.
“And takes pride in it,” Mrs. Butchling added, judging from his expression.”He’s very proud of who he is.”
Mindy and Hillary nodded. He had scars on his back legs, but they looked to be from a long time ago. The horse stood looking at them. He’d stopped chewing. He’d stopped moving. It was as if he’d stopped breathing. No one spoke - no one moved - until the horse put his head down and went back to eating his hay.
“Wow.” Mrs. Butchling said softly. “It’s as if he was looking deep into our souls.”
Hillary nodded, agreeing. “He was saying thank you. He trusts us now.”
Mrs. Butchling and Mindy smiled.
“He says he’s happy to be in his forever home.”
“Forever home.” The meaning behind that phrase washed down over them like rain. In the horse’s mind, this was going to be his forever home. A home filled with love and caring and even hard work if need be. A place he would never have to leave. Home in every sense of the word. Home.
Chapter Seven
Mrs. Butchling parked the trailer in its usual spot up the hill and walked down to the lower pasture to check on her horse Dew Drop. He was grazing contentedly with several other boarders’ horses. He looked up when he saw her and nickered. She didn’t believe in giving horses treats, which made the fact that he was always happy to see her, more rewarding. They had a deep-down inside-bond. He walked to the fence and leaned close so she could pet him.
“I’ll be back later,” she said. “I just stopped to say hello.” She straightened his forelock and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He meant the world to her. If it weren’t for him when her husband’s illness intensified…. She shuddered, remembering those days. Diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, he’d needed to be in a nursing home within a year. He’d gotten so angry and abusive - this man she loved dearly and who had loved her for a lifetime. He didn’t know anything anymore. He didn’t know her. He didn’t know wrong from right. He didn’t even know how to eat anymore. He’d passed away the previous winter, totally despondent, on a feeding tube, a shadow of the man she married.
Dew Drop rubbed the side of her face with his muzzle, and only then, did she realize she was crying. She wiped her eyes and gave him a hug. “Just so you know, Dew Drop, you have a forever home here. Even if something happens to me, I’ve made arrangements with Bethann for you to stay here forever. I don’t ever want you to worry.”
She thought of the bay gelding down in the arena, the horse thinking he too had a forever home. “How sad it’s going to be when he finds out,” she muttered. She gave Dew Drop a pat on the neck. “I’ll see you later. I love you,” she said, walking away and then coming back. “Thank you for being you.”
Her horse turned and walked lazily back to where his pasture mates were grazing. She looked up, wiping her eyes, when she saw Mindy’s Jeep.
Mindy put her window down. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “Did Hillary leave?”
“No. She’s still down there with the horse.” Mindy sat looking at the old woman who had be
come such a dear friend. “I know how you feel. I’m feeling the same way. If we had an empty stall….”
“I know.” Mrs. Butchling nodded. “I’ll see you this evening. Give Bethann, Benjamin and the baby my love.”
“Why don’t you come to the house with me to see them? I’m only going to stay a short time.”
“No. Thank you though. It was nice of you to ask. I don’t think I could handle it. Not today. I’m already a basket case.”
Mindy smiled sadly. She hadn’t known for years that Mrs. Butchling even had a child, let alone the fact that he’d drowned as a young boy. “I’ll see you later. I hope Hillary can find something to do with the horse before Bethann comes back. Or for that matter, before anyone starts asking questions.”
Mrs. Butchling waved and stepped back so Mindy could pass and walked to her SUV. Off to the west, thunder could be heard. By the time Mindy drove the short distance to Bethann’s house, the wind had picked up. She parked behind her mother and father’s Beemer and rolled up her windows.
She glanced toward the barns where the crew was just finishing up the stalls. They’d be bringing the horses in soon. It was relatively warm out. Even if the horses got caught in the rain…. Benjamin opened the door.
“Mindy! Mindy, come in. A storm is approaching.”
“How bad?” Mindy asked.
“Rain, wind, hail.”
At the word “hail” Mindy turned. Nothing freaked horses out more than hail. Snow, they could care less. Hail – that was a different story entirely. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go help bring the horses in.”
She heard her Mom call to her. “Mindy! Be careful!”
“No, Mom! I’m going to do everything dangerous!” Mindy laughed. “I’ll be right back!” She sped down the hill in her Jeep, jumped out and jogged to the upper pasture. Mrs. Butchling already had Dew Drop and Easy To Do on lead shanks.
James and Tom, two men from the barn crew, were running up the hill. Mindy grabbed Malaki and Tee Time. With what looked like a convoy, the horses were all led down to the barn. As was customary, each person led two horses. Only now with the wind picking up even more, it looked less like a routine daily event and more like a barely controlled stampede. The horses were wide-eyed with heads high and manes and tails flowing.
When the horses were all safe in their stalls, Mindy and Mrs. Butchling walked down to the lower arena to check on the new horse. By now, it was raining fairly hard, hail pelting the roof. They cut through the upper arena. Hillary was keeping vigil with the horse, which was pacing and if not frantic, about to explode.
Hillary had her hands to her chest, her breathing somewhat labored. “Are you all right?” Mrs. Butchling asked.
She shook her head. “We need….” She tried catching her breath. “We need to get him up near other…horses.”
“Ah, Jesus,” Mindy said. She’d witnessed this happening to Hillary once before. Her friend was taking on the horse’s feelings. “Is it too late to…?” She gestured with her hands, imitating that zipping thing Hillary does to protect her energy.
Hillary nodded, still trying to catch her breath.
Mrs. Butchling quickly unsnapped the gate and Mindy grabbed the lead shank. With some serious effort and having to sidestep the horse again and again to keep from getting tromped on, she managed to get the shank on the horse and led him out of the lower arena and up the breezeway ramp. Mrs. Butchling hurried ahead to open the next gate wide and Mindy led the horse up toward the other end by the office and observation room.
Mrs. Butchling was torn between going with her to help make sure the horse settled down and staying with Hillary to make sure she was okay. Hillary waved her on. The further the horse got away, the easier it was for her to breathe. “Go.”
So much for hiding a horse. The horse whinnied and whinnied and whinnied once he got to the upper arena and closer to the horses in the barn. Able to hear him, even with the rain, the horses in their stalls started whinnying back. It was a concert of whinnies with Malaki bellowing the lead. Mindy could recognize that whinny anywhere. The last thing she wanted was for Malaki to be running her stall and aggravating her navicular syndrome.
As Mindy walked the bay horse round and round the arena with him dancing and prancing, she looked at Mrs. Butchling - out of breath herself at the moment. “I’m too damned old for this,” the woman said.
When a big bolt of lightning lit up the arena the horse practically jumped in Mindy’s back pocket. With the clap of thunder he tried jumping into her lap. “Come on, come on,” she said, walking him in a tight circle. “Come on, I’m sure you’ve heard thunder before. Come on. Enough of this.”
Hillary entered the upper arena from the outside, soaking wet from the walk up. But at least she was breathing normally again. “All this drama is exhausting,” Mrs. Butchling said.
Hillary nodded. “He has issues.”
The woman looked at her.
“More than we knew.” Hillary kept her distance, still vulnerable to taking on the horse’s emotions. He had settled down some, but was still “wound up” as the saying goes. Mindy kept talking to him, kept trying to calm him. He whinnied and whinnied and whinnied. “He wants to be with other horses.”
“Well, that goes without saying, Madam Psychic,” Mindy said.
The horses in the barn kept whinnying back to him.
“I wonder if he crossties.”
“No time like the present to find out,” Mrs. Butchling said.
The rain soon softened to a drizzle. Massive amounts of hail dotted the ground as Mindy led the horse out of the arena, slipping and sliding, and into the barn.
“Oh my God, he’s so excited,” Hillary said.
Mrs. Butchling nodded sadly as she and the young woman trailed along behind the horse. As soon as he entered the barn, he pricked his ears, whinnied loud and started prancing. He had the look of a child greeting his newly-found or long-lost best friends. The horses all whinnied and nickered back and, as customary, Malaki let out a boss-mare banshee squeal.
The horse had “Oh goody!” written all over his face. “So this is home.”
“Maybe we can empty out the blanket stall and put him in there for the night,” Mrs. Butchling suggested.
“Oh right,” Mindy said. “And when the six o’clock news comes on and he’s reported stolen….”
“The only person that would report him stolen wouldn’t want to be talking to the police,” Hillary said. “Come on, think about it,” she added, when Mindy just looked at her. Meanwhile, the horse was straining his neck as far as he could to try and touch Malaki’s nose.
“Trust me,” Mindy told him as she led him into the crossties. “You don’t want to go there.”
Malaki stomped and squealed again. The sound reverberated throughout the barn.
Mindy hooked the horse up to one of the crossties and let him stand there a minute. He seemed perfectly happy just standing there, so she hooked up the other crosstie. He bobbed his head up and down playing with his halter, happy as could be.
“I’ve got to go to Bethann’s or my mother’s going to come down here thinking I’ve been hailed to death or laying under a tractor somewhere.”
“Go,” Mrs. Butchling said. “We’ll take care of this.”
~ * ~
Mindy tapped on Bethann and Benjamin’s front door and went inside. With so much on her mind, she hadn’t expected the sight of Bethann holding little David to have such an effect on her. She literally had to bite her bottom lip to keep from being overcome with emotion.
“Oh my,” she managed to say.
Her mother and father were both sitting next to Bethann on the couch, looking down at the baby. Benjamin was in the kitchen making sassafras tea and toasted almonds.
“Toasted almonds?”
“For Bethann’s strength and strength of family. We will all share. Keep us strong together.”
Bethann looked up at Mindy and smiled. “Do you want to hold him?”
“Yes,” Bethann said, gently handing her the baby.
Mindy cradled him to her chest and smiled when he nestled against the pounding of her heart. “Hello, David,” she said. “We met earlier, but you probably don’t remember me. I’m your Aunt Mindy.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “And I’m going to love you forever.”
Benjamin came into the living room toting the tray of tea and almonds. “Why everyone cry?”
Bethann, Christine, and Richard all wiped their eyes and laughed.
“The miracle of birth and bonding,” Christine said, wiping her eyes again.
Mindy touched little David’s nose with her fingertip. “You’re so cute. Look how little your nose is. Just look how precious you are.”
Benjamin poured tea for everyone and placed the almonds on the saucers around the cups. “It is a variation of custom. Strength, stability, and fluidity.”
Richard reached for his. “Is there sugar in the tea?”
“For you, Konnichiwa Oji-san, yes,” Benjamin said.
Richard smiled and popped an almond into his mouth. It was warm and salty, soft on the inside, crunchy on the outside, and had just a hint of a cinnamon taste. He sipped his tea. “This is nice,” he said. “Very nice custom.”
Benjamin smiled. “In my family, man do much of ceremony.”
“Ceremony in our house is all dad too,” Mindy said.
Everyone laughed, not only because Mindy said that, but also because of the expression on her Richard’s face. “Seriously now?”
“Yep,” Bethann said. “I have to agree.”
Bright sunshine now shone through the living room window, the storm but a memory. When little David wiggled and started to fuss, Mindy was more than happy to hand him back to his mother. When the lambs were fussy, she would rub their tummies and put them to sleep.