Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail

by Lorraine Turner

  “Well, it actually does matter…I think,” Jed said. “This is exactly why we are teaching the kids about the studies of the wild mustangs’ DNA. These horses are rounded up and considered a nuisance to the range but the studies are showing that they trace back to a time before the European settlers came here. These horses are more American than we are! I’ll bet if we looked at our own DNA we would see how un-American we really are.”

  “Now wait a minute,” said Leah frowning. “You’re confusing the issue. What I want to know isn’t about horses. I know all about DNA and horses and you’re probably right about the horses—we know they were here before us. I was asking Sue about her own search. What does finding all of this stuff do for her personally?”

  “Crazy as it sounds,” Sue answered, “it helps me feel more connected to my family. I never knew my great-grandparents and I am learning who they were and how they lived and where they came from—Scotland, Ireland, and all through the Netherlands. I find this exciting. My family albums used to hold a bunch of smudgy photos but now they feel a part of me. And…” she paused, wondering if she should say anything about her recent discovery, “…I may have found a connection between my family and Milla Spencer’s.”

  Anne spoke up. “Are you telling us that you may be related to Milla and you found all of this out by doing your family tree?”

  “Her father and I are working on this together and we’re getting closer, but yes, I think we’re connected and, yes, I found it by tracing my roots.”

  “That’s incredible!” exclaimed Anne.

  “Really, and it’s nice that you’re getting to know Carrie’s mom,” Leah said.

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Sue said. “Here’s that information about the quilting organization I told you about. You know, the one that sends them to children in need? Carrie’s mom gave me a pamphlet.”

  “Fantastic,” Leah said. “I was telling my sister about it. She’s involved with this huge quilting club in Reno. They even enter competitions and travel all over the place. You know, real quilting nerds, or that’s what I call my sister,” she laughed. “I’m just teasing, of course. She really is quite talented.”

  “Well, good. Maybe these quilting nerds can help out. It sounds like a wonderful cause,” Sue said.

  The teachers hurried to prepare for their classes as the children drifted in. Anne touched Sue on her sleeve and smiled. “You’re an amazing person, Sue Preston, and I really do hope you are related to Milla, but even if you’re not, she admires you and you’re a great mentor to her.”

  “Thanks,” Sue said. “She and my grandchildren have become closer through their time spent in the library. And you’re right, Anne, it doesn’t matter if she’s related or not—she could always use more family.”

  Milla and Carrie walked into class together quietly. Carrie noticed that Milla’s frown had reappeared after weeks of absence. Milla had been so happy the last time they were together…what could have happened? Carrie decided to wait until Milla told her what was bothering her.

  Milla was stewing in anger. She was so furious with Mrs. Burke that she didn’t know how she would even look at her. She was angry with her father and wanted to scream at everyone or kick something.

  All of the children took their seats and waited for Jed to start the class. Milla ignored the chattering children as she sat hunched over her seat with her chin in her hands. Jed set up easels in the front of the class. He then placed large photographs of different terrains where the wild mustangs lived. He spoke about the different bands that lived on the range and where they roamed at different seasons. As he placed the last photo on an easel Milla felt shivers running up her spine. It was a photo of the Calico Mountains with a band of horses grazing nearby. She sat up and quickly turned to Carrie. What? Carrie’s eyes seemed to say.

  “Oh my gosh. I just remembered my dream,” Milla whispered. “It was so real. My grandma was with me and we painted that exact photo Jed just put up…only, Carrie, she painted the mountains out of squares of calico fabric!” Milla confided.

  Chapter 57

  Brenda answered the phone knowing she would be in for another long conversation. It was her husband, Mark. The exchange always began friendly enough but soon deteriorated into accusations and arguments about money and, eventually, Carrie. Mark was angry about the move and each time he called he asked her to reconsider. Brenda was pacing in her bedroom as she always did when he called and stopped to gaze at the ceramic figurines of rearing and galloping horses. Her mind wandered to the overall feeling that came over her whenever she looked at them. To her they represented freedom—freedom to run and not look back.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Mark asked.

  Reluctantly she tuned back in to the conversation. “Look, we can’t keep doing this. I just got a job and so, no, I’m not moving back to New Jersey.” The phone went silent and Brenda realized that she had said the one thing he hoped he would never hear. “Mark, are you still there?” she asked.

  “I’m here,” he replied softly. “I guess I should congratulate you.”

  “I’m sorry. Listen, I don’t want to fight. Please, let’s just not fight anymore…okay?” she asked hopefully.

  “I’m gonna go now. Tell Carrie I’ll call her later,” Mark said abruptly. “And Brenda, congratulations. I hope this all works out for you. Really, I honestly do,” and he hung up.

  Brenda stared out the window. The Calico Mountains seemed to whisper to her, “Stand strong, just like us. The weather comes and goes, blowing in storms, and here we stand as beautiful as ever.” She wiped her tears and picked up a tiny ceramic figurine of a rearing stallion. I don’t want to fight anymore, she thought, setting the fierce-looking stallion back on the shelf.

  The phone rang again and she was hoping it was Mark calling back but it was Leah Small, one of the teachers from Carrie’s camp. “Hi, Brenda,” Leah said. “I hope I’m not calling too early.”

  “No, not at all, Leah. What’s up?” Brenda asked.

  “You are not going to believe this but my sister contacted the Quilts For Tots and she and her sewing club are going to take the project on. They have over a hundred members and they’re really excited about this,” Leah exclaimed. “I showed them the photos of Shannon’s quilts—it’s hard to believe a ten-year-old could make them.”

  “Oh, Leah, that’s fantastic! Wait until Carrie hears about this. Just think—a kid from New Jersey connects all of these women to a worthy cause. Crazy, huh?”

  “Yeah, my sister’s all fired up about it. Now they are trying to collect scrap fabric for the project, so if you have any scraps or know of anyone who may want to donate fabric, please let us know.”

  Brenda thought of the mysterious calico squares that were still appearing. “Um, okay, I’ll pass the word along. Thanks for sharing the news,” she said, wanting to get off the phone before she blurted out the story of magical fabric.

  “Be sure to thank Carrie and her friend, too,” Leah said. “Bye.”

  Calico Mountains, calico dreams, calico horses, and now this, Brenda thought. Well, Leah needs scrap fabric and we have squares flying all over the place. Maybe it’s part of some plan. Ugh, I have got to stop thinking of this, she thought, turning her back on the herd of ceramic mustangs staring at her in silence.

  Brenda spent the rest of the day looking at real estate. The search was narrowed down to an apartment in Reno and two homes in Saddlecrest. The apartment was close to her job and although small it had a wonderful courtyard and a pool. She imagined Carrie and Flannel taking walks in the park nearby, but she wasn’t sure of the safety factor. Living in a city could be wonderful and exciting but it came with its unspoken worries. The real estate agent had brushed it all aside when Brenda mentioned it. The first house in Saddlecrest was a little beyond her budget but Brenda thought in time with her new job she could easily afford it. It was a small two-bedroom rancher with a beautiful stone fireplace and fenced back yard where Flannel could run. The
house was within easy bike riding distance to Milla’s, and of course, this was Carrie’s first choice. The second house was a home that belonged to a friend of Sue Preston. It was a bit run-down and needed some work. It sat on a large property with a small barn. The neighborhood seemed nice. Each of the homes sat back off the road and had plenty of breathing room. The owners had moved to a retirement center and the little house sat empty. Brenda loved the feel of the place and knew in time she could really fix it up and make it special. But it was not in Milla’s neighborhood nor was it close to her new job. It was Brenda’s favorite among the three. The real estate agent stood patiently as Brenda walked out back and admired the little barn once again. The Calico Mountains, like soldiers in the distance, stood guard watching over her.

  Carrie and Milla laughed as Flannel accidently ate a slice of onion that had dropped onto the floor in Milla’s kitchen. The dog spit it out and began sneezing. Flannel ignored their laughter and looked at the girls waiting to see if they might drop something tastier.

  “Look at her,” Carrie said. “She’s actually hoping a hamburger will drop next time.”

  Milla broke off a piece of her burger and slipped it to the collie. “No, I told you not to do that, Mil. She’s not allowed to beg for food. It’s a nasty habit.” Carrie shooed the dog away.

  “Aw, I can’t resist her eyes. Look at how sad she looks.”

  “It’s all an act, I tell you. Shoo—go away, Flannel. Go find one of your toys.” Hearing the word toy, the dog ran to her squeaky monkey and carried it off to a cozy corner in the living room.

  “So I’m working on a plan to get Hope,” Milla announced.

  “Uh huh,” Carrie said, taking a sip of her root beer.

  “I have it all worked out. Mrs. Preston had us over for dinner the other night and showed us around her place. Did you know she has her own horses?” asked Milla.

  “No way!” Carrie replied.

  “Squeak squeak,” went the toy monkey as if to reply.

  “Way! And she has a few empty stalls that she’s looking to rent out.”

  “Oh man, your dad can’t refuse this plan, have you asked him yet?” She accidently dropped another onion and Flannel trotted over, sniffed it, and backed away, returning to her toy.

  “No, I can’t bring it up until he cools off. He shuts me down every time I bring it up. I have to figure a way to make it seem like it’s his idea,” said Milla, frowning.

  “Are you nuts? How in the world can you swing that? He told my mom he works with horses all day and the last thing he wants is a foal.”

  “That’s because he thinks he’ll be taking care of it. But Carrie, you know I can do it and if I keep Hope at Mrs. Preston’s—well, he just has to see it’ll work,” Milla said in a pleading voice.

  “Hey, you don’t have to convince me. I think it sounds like the perfect answer. But I’m not your dad,” Carrie replied, taking her dirty dish to the sink.

  “Ugh, he’s so stubborn,” Milla said. “Plus there’s another BLM round-up coming this month and that always makes him grouchy. Why can’t he see that I just want to help? This little horse is one of the Calico Mountain foals. Hope is ready for adoption and his job with the BLM is to find homes for all the wild mustangs. All I’m trying to do is keep one…just one.”

  “Well, do you think that Mrs. Preston has two stalls available?” Carrie asked hopefully.

  “Actually, she has three! Oh, Carrie—you could get a horse and we could ride together! I can see it now—we’ll be able to go for trail rides and maybe we can even enter them in a horse show!”

  “Yeah,” said Carrie, “and our horses will grow up together and be best friends!” The girls’ excitement grew as they planned new adventures with their very own horses. How wonderful to think of a life where they could ride off into the sunset.

  Devon pulled into the driveway and Flannel barked a greeting as she stood with her paws on the windowsill, her tail wagging. Carrie watched Milla’s smile melt away. She reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Timing,” she whispered. “It’s all in the timing.”

  “It’s time, all right,” groaned Milla. “It’s time he got a new attitude.” They saw Devon unloading groceries and ran outside to lend a hand. Carrie and Milla finished putting the groceries away and were just about to go for a bike ride when they heard Flannel barking.

  “How did she get out?” Carrie said with alarm. She dropped the bike and ran behind the house in the direction of the dog’s cry. The girls hurried through the stretch of land that sloped behind the house toward the black-and-white speck off in the distance. Devon watched through the window as the girls raced out over the landscape. He slowly got up from his easy chair and grabbed Flannel’s leash lying on the table. More drama, he thought—just what I need.

  Flannel ran in circles, yelping loudly at the band of grazing horses. The mustangs had their ears pinned back and were clearly annoyed with the dog that had disturbed their foraging for food. Carrie called to Flannel but the dog was too intent on her task. She ran in a circle, darting in quick turns, herding the horses in tightly. Devon approached the scene as the painted stallion began to lash out at the collie. He had seen stallions in action protecting their mares and the small collie was no match for the angry horse. He walked toward the rearing stallion arms raised wide, as Flannel looked up suddenly distracted. Carrie called to her and the dog looked back and forth between the small band of horses stomping their feet and Carrie, who was kneeling down holding a leash. Devon stood still talking quietly to the spotted horse with his arms out. The stallion put its head down and began moving his mares away. The band of mares responded by galloping off, chased by the stallion, and Devon remained where he was in a cloud of dust. Carrie clipped Flannel’s leash on and Milla went to hug her father.

  The three of them walked back to the house with the reluctant collie. Carrie felt horrible about what had happened. Milla didn’t want to let go of her dad’s hand and held it all the way back to the house. Devon thought of the days ahead when he would be busy with horses and his little girl would be starting school. He wouldn’t always be there to look after her and was glad he had been there today. He needed to keep her occupied, but how? Suddenly, Sue Preston came to his mind. Maybe Sue needed some help with her horses over at her barn, he thought. Sure, I can ask Sue—heck, she’s practically family. Or at least she might be. They hadn’t found any proof yet, but did it really matter? He looked at Milla and smiled, squeezing her hand.

  “You’re not angry?” asked Milla.

  “No, not at all, dogs—especially herding dogs—love to bark at horses. I was a bit worried at first, but it all worked out.” Milla hugged her father as Carrie and Flannel went into the house. The Calico Mountains seemed a deep shade of violet as they fell behind some clouds. Devon held his daughter close and looked out at the band of horses that had found a new grazing spot. It’s time to look in a new direction, he thought, maybe to Sue Preston and her horses. To think she was one of my mother’s closest friends, and a wonderful artist to boot, and here she is telling me time and time again to call her any time.

  “I have an idea,” Devon said, looking down at his daughter.

  “Yeah? Like what, Dad?” she asked.

  “Well, first I need to make a call, but let’s just say you may be getting your wish,” he said as he walked toward the house. Milla opened her mouth to say something and stopped. Her mind raced to thoughts of Hope. Timing…it’s all about timing, she thought…and the best part? He thinks it’s his idea.

  Chapter 58

  The two burros, Candy and Roxie, were standing facing in opposite directions as they nibbled each other’s backs. They watched the group of students approach their pen and stopped nibbling momentarily to see if they had any treats. Seeing none, they went back to their nipping.

  Leah led the children to a row of benches and waited for them to take their seats. A large forest green wooden box sat beside the burro’s pen, painted in the stable
colors of the Hidden Valley Horse and Art Camp. Carrie and Milla were on separate benches. Leah always made her students sit in different spots for each lesson; she called this her “Different Point of View Plan.” At first the kids moaned and griped but soon friendships were formed simply by sitting in a different seat. Kris, the older boy whom Carrie had been partnered with in the Horse Bee, sat beside Milla in the front row, while Carrie sat in a row behind them next to a girl named April. Leah opened the large wooden box and passed out various horse grooming tools. Jed came up to the front of class, leading Hope in her tiny blue halter. Milla was beaming as she admired her. Jed walked the foal between two posts holding nylon ropes and clipped them to each sides of Hope’s halter. Leah explained that this would keep the horse from turning its head while being groomed.

  “May I have a volunteer who hasn’t had a turn in a while?” Leah asked the eager students who were all waving their hands. April jumped up after being selected and made her way through the groaning students who hadn’t been chosen. She stood smiling at the front of the class. Milla felt jealous and just wanted to disappear. Stupid class, she thought—look at April, thinking she’s so special standing near my horse. Carrie turned to face her friend. She knew instinctively that Milla would probably make a big deal over someone else handling the small palomino. Milla shot Carrie a look of disgust and Carrie shrugged her shoulders, trying to send her friend a message of encouragement. It’s no biggy, she said with a chin-up jerk of her head; just relax. Milla rolled her eyes.

  The teacher chose a small round brush with a cloth handle that slipped onto her hand. “This is called a curry brush. It’s helpful in removing the coat when a horse sheds.” She demonstrated how to use the brush in circular motions on Hope’s chest. Handing the tool to April, she spoke of the importance of grooming. Milla grew angrier while the girl brushed the foal, and her face turned bright red.