by Kayn, Debra
"This is so embarrassing…" Sarah blushed self-consciously.
Joan waited.
"My son. He drinks, and I don't know what to do anymore." She let out her breath. "He scares me."
"Is he hurting you when he drinks?" Joan asked.
Sarah shook her head. "No, of course not. I'm his mother. I know what it's like to watch someone lose control of a drinking problem. His dad…he's gone now, he drank and would hit us. I'm afraid my son will do the same. I don't want to have to kick him out of my home, but I have smaller children who don't understand the arguing and my son's mood changes. He's growing up so fast, but he's still my little boy."
"How old is your son?" Joan opened the desk drawer.
"He's seventeen, and hangs out with his friends instead of going to school." Sarah leaned forward. "The school tells me it's my responsibility to take him every day, but he doesn't listen."
Joan spent the next twenty minutes going over what Hope Clinic could do to help her son and because he was a minor, Sarah could place him, as his guardian, in counseling to start the twelve-step program. Sarah appeared unsure if she could get her son to come to the first appointment, but after Joan explained how her son would be paid twenty-five dollars for each step he completes of the program, Sarah smiled.
"Thank you so much, Joan. I will tell my son." Sarah stood and shook Joan's hand. "I'm relieved. I think he'll agree to coming after he hears he will have money to use on his car he bought last summer."
Joan walked her to the door, waved goodbye, and waited ten seconds before jumping in the air in excitement. "Yes!"
Brody walked out of the back hallway and joined Joan at the desk. "What's got you so excited?"
"Our first client." She held the paper in front of her and did a little dance. "God! That felt good. If nothing else, the woman looked ten times more relieved after visiting the clinic. We gave her hope."
"You gave her hope." Brody high fived her. "I think we should celebrate. Come on over for a barbeque on Saturday. Bring Katie, your swimsuits, and I'll call the other guys. This is the day we've dreamed about, and now we can get down to business. I know it's only one patient, but more will come once she tells her family and friends how well she was treated. This is only the beginning."
Joan sank down in the chair and filled her mouth with air. She blew her breath out in one big whoosh. "Oh Brody…I don't think that would be the smartest thing to do right now."
"Trace?"
She nodded and waved her hand in the air. "I've tried to forget about him. Most days I can keep myself busy with the clinic and Katie, but I can't help wondering what I could have done differently, or what I can say for him to believe I won't hurt him. It's like he thinks I'm this fragile piece of glass that'll shatter into a million pieces if he explains what's going through his head."
Brody heaved a sigh. "I think it's Trace who thinks it'll be him who falls apart."
"I'm pathetic wishing for someone who doesn't want me." Sarah slapped her hands down on the desk. "You know what? I'll come to your barbecue. The hell with Trace. If he want to be a dumb ass, that's his problem. I would love to hang out with you guys, and I know Katie will want to come. I can't keep her away from the ranch as it is now."
Brody tilted back his head and laughed. "There's that O'Hanlon spirit I remember seeing when you tried to throw me in the car, right before it blew up."
Joan grinned. It was true. Somewhere along the way, she'd let herself worry about someone else more than taking care of herself. That's one of the first things she tells a person who seeks counseling not to do, and it took her until now for her to figure out she needed to follow her own advice.
***
Trace turned from the window and braced himself against the kitchen counter. "What did Joan say? Did she agree to come to the ranch?"
"Yep." Brody walked across the room, opened the fridge, and took out the pitcher of lemonade. "She's steamed. I'm afraid you're not going to have such an easy time convincing her how sorry you are, or she should trust you not to screw her again."
Trace ran his hands through his hair. "I can do that. I deserve to go through all the groveling and humiliation for how I treated her."
Brody paused, reaching for a glass and seemed to study him. "All this change in you over breaking a horse, and then being stupid enough to let the best damn horse you'll ever have go free again? I don't get it."
Trace shrugged. "I didn't understand it all either, until I went twenty-four hours without sleep and had nothing to think about, except Joan and Thunderbolt. For once, I forgot about my discomfort and fears, and could empathize with what they were going through. I caused the pain they were experiencing, and I didn't like how it made me feel. I don't think I've ever had such a low point in my life, until I realized the damage I was causing."
Brody stared at him for a long time, before shaking his head in wonder. "I guess our ancestors knew what they were doing when they fasted and went off to pray."
"Yeah." Trace crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. "Gives a person a lot to think about, and now I have to make it up to Joan. Last time she tried to talk with me, she finally got angry. I might be too late to make things right between us."
"What happens if she's through believing in you? She's no different than the rest of us…or you. We all have our limits on how much we'll allow ourselves to be hurt, and you treated her like shit," Brody said.
"I know." Trace stared at his boots. "I keep telling myself I'll try to prove to her how much she means to me for the rest of my life, but that's not fair or healthy. I know I can't live with regret for what I've done, but I sure wish I'd handled things differently. The most I can hope for is her letting me explain, and hoping she still loves me."
"Hang in there." Brody set his glass in the dishwasher. "If two people deserved to be together, it would be you and Joan. She's one in a million. If we weren't such good friends, I'd put the moves on her myself."
Trace lifted one brow. "Over my dead body."
"Hey, I'm only telling the truth. It's too bad she didn't have a twin sister." Brody laughed.
"She's got Katie and from what Devon has said, she's going to be a handful when she grows up." Trace grinned. "I guess she's sticking like glue to Devon, and has even volunteered to work at the ranch for free the rest of the summer. The more Katie hangs around, the more often I find Devon bent over his little business notebook trying to figure out if building an arena and offering lessons on the ranch would be beneficial to us."
Brody snorted. "If he doesn't tiptoe carefully, he's gonna break little Katie's heart. Nothing's been said, but I have a feeling he's the object of a teenager's crush."
Trace grimaced. He'd have to have a talk with Devon. There'd been enough heartache on Lakota Ranch to last a lifetime, and he knew Devon well enough to know he wouldn't want to tamper with Katie's feelings.
Chapter Thirty
A breeze picked up, and Joan stretched her legs out in front of her. She'd taken to eating her lunch outside after finding the prettiest little creek on one of her walks around the area, during her breaks from the clinic.
She couldn't sit and wait for someone to approach her all day long, and getting out in the community and becoming familiar with the people would hopefully show them she was no threat to them and she only wanted to help.
A butterfly fluttered past, circled, and hovered in front of her. She set the crust from her sandwich on her leg and leaned back, bracing herself with her hands. The yellow and black wings beat in a flurry trying to go against the wind.
Not moving a muscle, Joan wondered how such a delicate creature survived in a world that at times seemed unusually cruel. Where even the wind was the enemy and a puddle of water could destroy its wings.
The monarch landed on the bread. She held her breath. The once busy wings slowly flapped as if prepared to take flight at the slightest move from her. Her nose itched, and she let out her breath. The butterfly flew away, fed, and rested, if
only for a short time.
The delicate nature of the butterfly and hidden strength to survive in a harsh world, reminded her of Trace. Everything reminded her of Trace.
A few more hours and she'd be able to lock the doors and go home for the weekend. Tomorrow night, she and Katie would attend the Lakota Ranch barbecue, and she'd prove to herself that she could close the book on Trace LaBatte.
Almost to the road, she paused. The flash of black coming to a stop in front of the stables, and across from the clinic, sent shivers down her spine. Trace's crew cab door came open. Any second he'd could step out and look at her with those dark silver eyes of his. Every resolve she'd summoned up the last few weeks to put Trace behind her would disappear.
She told herself to ignore the way her heart leapt with hope. He hadn't come to the reservation to see her. He had business to do twice a week at the stables, and she'd have to get used to seeing his vehicle parked outside.
She bolted across the road like a scared kitten, and scampered inside the clinic. She pursed her lips. Unable to deny herself, she shut the front door and hid behind the window blinds to watch for Trace.
She had to stop acting this way and get on with her life. She walked to the desk. Despite Katie's rather unexplained change of opinion toward Trace the last few days, Joan was positive it was truly finished between her and Trace.
Fifteen minutes later, she ignored her own advice and stood at the window again. Staring outside, she became disgusted with herself. What kind of role model was she being for Katie? I'm pathetic. Trace doesn't want me.
The door of the stables opened. Joan leaned closer to the window, until her nose hit the glass.
Trace.
He held Savannah in his arms and as they stepped out into the sunlight, she saw they wore matching smiles. Her heart melted all over again for the man who battled his own personal demons constantly in his life, but had enough goodness inside of him to make the life of a child that much sweeter.
Swinging Savannah in a circle while holding her securely, Trace lifted her high in the air. Savannah stretched her arms and legs out and flew through the sky as Trace carried her flying to his truck. Joan pressed her hand to her chest, warmed to the core. Who wouldn't want a man that put a smile on a child's face?
Despite her anger and hurt feelings, she knew with every cell in her body that she'd never meet another man as special as Trace. Like the butterfly from earlier, Savannah would thrive and fly off on her own someday, thanks to the love and care Trace gave her. She hugged her midsection. Savannah would always remember Trace as the man who never disappointed her.
He'd make a wonderful father.
She stepped back from the window. Where had that thought come from?
Her legs shook, and she slowly made her way back to her desk. She'd always taken it for granted that someday in her future she'd have a husband and children. That's what people do as they get older, and their goals change.
To make her whole situation worse, she instantly imagined Trace and her having a baby together. Would he or she have the dark hair of Trace or the red hair that was prominent in her family? She shook her head to stop her mind from wandering, and then reached out for the procedure manual she was putting together for the residents that would be visiting on Monday during the open house.
***
Trace watched Savannah run off to the general store to purchase enough food to last her a couple of days. He dug his toe in the dirt. Savannah's dad had been gone for two days, and although Savannah was safer without him, he'd left her alone without any food in the house.
He wasn't worried about Savannah's dad not being home. At least she was safe for the time being. Even at Savannah's age, taking care of herself was better than dealing with abuse. He knew that personally.
The sad part was he couldn't even fault his people for not getting involved. He'd bet everything he owned that Savannah's neighbors had no clue what went on inside her house. They'd shrugged off her bruises and limps as childhood accidents.
He learned early on not to utter a sound when his father beat him, because the hits, the slaps, the shoves, came faster and harder to shut him up. He rubbed his chest. Thank the spirit that Savannah saw something in him, and wasn't afraid to come and ask for help.
The schoolteachers were overworked and underpaid. Classrooms were crowded, and the teachers were there to teach, not to mother. It was the way things had always been, since he could remember.
Family matters stayed within the family. You were not to judge others. The list of what was appropriate and the Lakota belief ran deeply ingrained. Yet, he often wished the Lakota way of helping each other, giving to your neighbors, and the community spirit, would go as far as questioning each other and holding people accountable for their actions.
Luckily, the clinic gave his people an option. They could seek help, free of charge, and keep their concerns private from the community. He swiveled and gazed across the street at Hope Clinic. He'd been wrong in his choice not to want Joan running the clinic.
He, more than anyone, knew she was the perfect person for the job. He'd never stop worrying about her taking on too much or becoming too involved, but he had no right to tell her what to do with her life.
He stepped into the street, planning to talk with Joan before tomorrow night when she and Katie came to the barbeque, but the livestock trailer he was waiting for pulled around the corner.
Trace walked to meet Charlie, the horse hauler, who had parked and was opening the back door of the trailer. A small, black mustang rushed forward. He jumped up on the tailgate and pushed the horse back.
He ran his hands down the mare's neck. "Nice."
"Yeah, this one is a sweetie." Charlie hitched his thumb over his shoulder. "I've got a troublemaker at the front of the trailer that we'll have to leave til last. He's got no manners and thanks to him, I'll probably have new dents on my trailer that'll have to be hammered out tomorrow."
The petite mare gave him a look he knew well. She stood calmly, but the ride tired her out and confinement frightened her. He held onto her halter and led her through the double doors, down the aisle, and placed her in one of the smaller stalls with no fight. When he released her, the horse circled back around and stared at him.
He nodded without saying a word, and the horse walked to the side of the stall to drink out of the trough. Dammit.
He'd seen horses in every kind of condition imaginable come through the doors. Some were prime animals, well cared for and ready to please. Others were beaten and the best thing he could offer is to put them out of their misery.
The little black mustang suffered from dehydration, and he suspected starvation. She saved her energy by not struggling to get away, because she was pregnant.
The shippers who traded horses for money sickened him. The least they could do was see to the comfort of their load. How hard was it to find the time to dish out food and water?
"I've got the transfer papers with me, but no one's in the office." Charlie strolled by leading a limping quarter horse.
"No problem. I can take them." He motioned toward the mustang. "What's the deal with this one?"
"A little small for you to take an interest." Joe scoffed.
Trace smacked the backend of the quarter horse, sending him into the opening stall, closing the door after him. He ignored Joe's jibe.
He knew a swindler when he saw one. It was none of Charlie's business what happened to the horses before or after they were out of his care. He'd receive a check, and would go on to delivering his next load.
Deciding he wasn't going to get to talk with Joan before she left, he returned to the trailer and dealt with the troublemaker.
The six-stall horse trailer rocked. Trace spoke quietly, soothing the stallion from the outside as he walked around the hitch. He had his work cut out for him, but he would do better on his own, without the added tension of Charlie around.
He opened the side door and pulled the ramp down. The animal scr
eamed and tried to rear up, but the lead rope held him in place.
"Sh. You're okay. I'll get you out of here." Trace ran his hand along the side of the stallion, warning him he was coming in. He took the time to memorize the brand number stamped on the horse's flank while he worked.
He took a firm hold on the rope, unsnapped the clip silently, and led him down the ramp. The stud danced and rolled his eyes, but followed him easily. No doubt, he knew he was going in the same direction as the mare he'd noticed in heat earlier.
Not wanting to put him in the rickety old stalls in the stables, Trace led him outside and put him in the corral. The stallion headed straight to the trough and drank his fill. Trace decided to speak to Joe about firing Charlie. It was inexcusable to ignore the basic needs of animals.
"Here's the papers." Charlie handed him the file.
Trace thumbed through each one. Then he walked back through the stable and matched each horse with the right brand. When he was done, he went inside the office, wrote a check, and handed it to Charlie. Without a word, he saw the man to the door. Good riddance.
He walked back to the black mustang's stall and leaned over the door. After spending some time studying the horse, testing her for behavioral issues, he headed back to the office. He had one more thing to do tonight, before he went home. The smile came slowly, and he walked faster. He knew exactly who would work wonders with the pregnant mare.
Chapter Thirty-One
"Come on, Joanie. We're late." Katie stood outside the car in the driveway of Lakota Ranch.
"We're not late. For once, we're right on time." Joan grabbed her bag out of the backseat. "We're not staying late into the night either, and don't talk Devon into taking you riding. He's let you come over three times this week, and you don't want to overstay your welcome."
"Aw, Devon would never get tired of me. He did say I could work here on the weekends once school starts too. He's even going to pay me." Katie danced beside her. "That's a sure sign that he likes having me around."
"Well, we'll see about that," she answered. "I want to talk with him and make sure it doesn't mess with your schoolwork."