“You have no idea how much work has gone into their training,” Devon said.
“I imagine they’re not used to crowds, either,” Sue agreed, “but look how calm they are.”
Carrie remembered how hard it was training Flannel when she became distracted. The horses took one last lap around the ring. Each mount rode a different color. Their coats sparkled like precious jewels in the sunlight. Sorrel, chestnut, grulla, paint, buckskin, appaloosa, bay, and palomino—they cantered around the ring with heads held high. Carrie’s heart was beating fast as she watched the formation they created in the center of the arena.
“Let’s give a salute to our Wild Horses and Burros, and be sure to stop by booth 283 to find out how you can adopt one of these beauties,” said the announcer as the crowd stood clapping. The Calico horses dipped their heads with bended knee and melted the hearts of the people as they took their final bow. Brenda and Sue looked at one another in tears.
Chapter 73
Sunday, September 1:
I had a dream that began in total darkness, followed by sparkling lights on water. I was flying high up in the sky. Below me I saw a twinkling blue ocean. Beside the ocean I saw a boardwalk and a spinning Ferris wheel with many colored lights. The ocean then turned into a brown desert and I saw a group of horses running. I saw horses of blue, purple, red, and orange. I remember a funny feeling like a tickle washing over me in the wind as I watched them racing below. I flew lower and I was almost touching them as they galloped across a field of calico fabric and then this land became mountains. Everything began to grow dark as if the sun was going down and the horses disappeared among silhouettes of children dancing and then I woke.
I think I know what my mission is. Now I just have to figure out how to explain it. Dad called and was in a good mood and it was great to hear him laugh. He rescued a little black puppy and thinks it’s a terrier of some sort. He said somebody left it in a box at the supermarket parking lot. He’s named her Gracie and is sending me photos.
Carrie tiptoed toward the bathroom trying not to wake Milla. They had stayed up late trying to figure out the mystery. Shannon had called and joined in the conversation. This, of course, was before the dream, the one with a Ferris wheel and dancing children. Flannel came up the steps with her usual thump-thumping tail hitting the wall. Milla rolled over and stretched. She stuck her foot out from under the blankets and Flannel sniffed it, tickling Milla with her whiskers.
“You silly girl, come here,” Milla said, holding out her hand and snapping her fingers.
“Oh, you’re up,” Carrie mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste, poking her head out of the bathroom.
“Yes,” Milla yawned, “and I am greeted by Princess Flannel, Keeper of the Cold Nose.”
Carrie picked up her journal, flipped it to her latest entry, and handed it to Milla before disappearing into the shower. Milla sat up, fluffed the pillows, and began reading. Flannel hopped up onto the bed, glancing toward the bedroom door, hoping Brenda wasn’t near. Milla read the latest entry several times before closing the journal and sinking back into the pillows. She stared at the ceiling. Carrie finished dressing and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “Well?” she asked.
“I think I know what our mission is,” said Milla.
“Yeah? Let’s hear it.”
“Well, last night we figured out that it has to do with foals and babies. Today you dreamed of horses and children, so I think we’re definitely on the right track.”
“And the Ferris wheel?” Carrie asked as she scratched Flannel behind her ears.
“Well, that also connects us to Shannon, I think. Don’t you? We also know that the sewing of calico quilts and the foals of the Calico Mountains need to be together,” Milla added.
“Exactly,” Carrie said. “Plus, I keep thinking of those little cards with the pretty artwork on them, the ones we saw on those dream catchers at the rodeo. They reminded me of your painting.”
They heard Brenda coming up the steps. Flannel jumped off the bed in a flash, trotting over to greet her.
“Morning, you two.”
“Morning,” the girls said, hoping Brenda hadn’t heard the dog jump off the bed.
“You were up late. How long were you on the phone with Shannon?” asked Brenda, petting the collie.
“Pretty late. We were busy figuring out the mission.”
Brenda glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “I guess Devon would have called in a panic if he was visited by any pixies last night,” she laughed. Milla smiled, thinking back to the group meditation and her father sitting with his face hidden under his hat.
“Hey, I meant to show you this earlier,” Brenda said, handing Carrie a crinkled piece of paper. “Have you seen it?”
“Wild Horse Annie—yeah, I know all about her. We learned about how she worked with kids, asking them to help make laws to protect the mustangs.”
“She’s cool,” Milla nodded.
“Well, one of the kids at the booth handed it to me and it made me think of your mission,” she said, picking up some dirty clothes and walking away. “I’m making breakfast if you’re hungry.”
“Be right down, Mom.”
A few minutes later Devon’s jeep pulled into the driveway. Flannel jumped up on the window ledge to get a better view. Brenda laughed when Devon tripped over Max while carrying a cardboard tray of take-out coffee and a bag of doughnuts. The cat ignored his scolding and lay down in front of him, blocking his path.
Brenda opened the door and grabbed the bag from under his arm. “Good morning. Do you come bearing gifts?”
“I was hoping I wasn’t too early. Hey, what’s up with that cat? I swear he tried to trip me on purpose.”
“He’s Sam’s watch cat and he packs a mean attitude,” she said as Max hopped up on the porch rail. Flannel slipped out the door, barking and running in circles as the cat began cleaning himself. Brenda grabbed the leash just as Carrie rushed past her. Carrie stood just outside the door and called, “Flannel, come!” Flannel immediately snapped to attention, returned to the door, and sat facing her. Carrie gave a quick hand signal and the collie circled behind her and dropped to a sitting position on her right side. She patted the collie and said, “Flannel, heel,” before walking a few paces, the dog closely matching every step. With his back arched, Max hissed, trying to tease the collie that calmly ignored him. Milla stood by the open door watching along with Brenda and her father.
“Max is a bully,” Milla said in disgust.
“And Flannel is doing exactly what she’s supposed to do—ignoring him,” Devon added.
“Good girl, Flannel!” Carrie said, hugging her. The happy collie ran from person to person accepting praise. Devon was eager to oblige. “You’ve done an amazing job training her,” he said, stooping to pet the dog.
Sam poked her head in to see what all the fuss was about. “Do I smell doughnuts?” she asked. Devon and Sam sat chatting about the rodeo and the previous day’s events while Brenda made breakfast.
“So what happens to the horses that don’t get adopted?” Sam asked.
“They go to private ranchers who are paid by the government to house them, but they are studying new alternatives,” Devon said, sipping his coffee.
“Private ranchers, huh. Hmmm, it sounds like we are simply warehousing horses and burros. That’s gotta cost some big bucks,” Sam noted. “And obviously since the government is paying for this, it’s coming out of our taxes.”
“True,” Devon explained. “That’s why the more people who are aware of this, the more people can write their lawmakers and ultimately take some responsibility in choosing how to spend those tax dollars.”
“Education is the key,” Brenda agreed, as she sat down. “But what exactly are these ‘new alternatives’ you mentioned, Devon?”
“One idea is to create these wild horse Eco sanctuaries. It’s still quite new and no one knows for sure what the outcome will be. Basically they are places where the public
will pay to see the horses roaming safely in a controlled area. But like I said, it’s still in the preliminary stages.”
Brenda shook her head. “I don’t think you’ll ever be able to replace their natural environment and I think every animal should be allowed its freedom. I saw a documentary recently that claims that some are being illegally sold and shipped out for slaughter. Those horses and burros need to be protected.”
“You sound just like Wild Horse Annie,” Devon said.
“I’ll take that as a compliment!” Brenda smiled.
Milla and Carrie were sitting with their heads together deep in a conversation of their own. “We need to combine the quilts with the foals. I’m not sure how that will be done, but that’s the mission,” Carrie said, sipping her orange juice.
“Well, what if we somehow made little cards like those dream catchers we saw?” Milla asked. “So the quilts that went to the babies had a message.”
“Your painting!” Carrie exclaimed. “That’s it, don’t you see?”
Brenda looked over her shoulder. “See what?” she asked.
“We make cards that tell people how to adopt the foals of the Calico Mountains and attach them to the quilts!”
“Oh, how wonderful,” Milla said, “and my painting I did with my grandmother could be on the little card!”
Sam came over to sit beside them. “So you’re going to attach these cards to the Quilts For Tots and teach people about the horses?”
Carrie jumped out of her chair. “Yeah, and we can include information about the rescue center and about the foals, and maybe how kids can get involved, just like Wild Horse Annie!”
“Like mother, like daughter,” Devon said, biting into his second glazed doughnut.
“What will we write?” Milla asked, munching her toast.
“We’ll write about what I was told by the spirit horse,” Carrie said, “that everyone should respect, honor, and love all animals—not just their family pets.” Carrie’s face was determined. “We’ll write the message that everyone needs to hear—We are one.”
“It’s a beautiful message,” said Brenda as she hugged her daughter.
“Mrs. Burke has a ton of photos of the foals that we can include on the card. I know she’ll want to help us,” Milla said.
“I’m glad that you have it all figured out. It sounds like your dreams and all of the events really led you to this,” Brenda said. “But I still don’t understand how the calico fabric appeared.”
Milla walked over to gaze out across the desert. “Well, I have a theory.” Devon came and stood next to his daughter. Could it be, could Milla have figured out the mystery?
She turned to face everyone. “I know that I can’t prove it and I don’t even expect anyone to believe it—I’m only going by my gut feelings.”
“Go on, go on,” Carrie said, pulling on Milla’s arm.
“I’ve heard stories about the magic of the Calico Mountains my entire life and I was taught them by my grandma. Think about it. For months we found calico swatches all over the place, appearing from thin air, and one morning we woke up to an avalanche of them and whose photo does the fabric choose to frame?” Milla crossed her arms and nodded.
Carrie peered out the window at the beautiful hills that resembled the ones in her dreams. Devon ruffled Milla’s hair. “I would never disagree with you, honey, but we may never know. Life is full of mysteries.”
Milla looked at her dad. “Grandma used to stand gazing at the Calico Mountains every sunset and tell me stories about their magic. She told me they only revealed it to special people, and you laughed when I told you. Remember, Dad?”
“I’m not laughing anymore,” he said, hugging his daughter, who seemed to have suddenly grown up.
“So, do you think she made the fabric appear? Do you think she’s a part of the magic?” Carrie asked.
“I think we’re like the squares all coming together,” Milla said. “Every one of us: Shannon, her grandmom, you, me…the mustangs, the foals, the mountains, the babies who will receive the quilts, and yes—even my grandma. It’s the message that the spirit horse told you in a dream and the wind whispered from a shell…
“We are one.”
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank the many people and animals who helped me bring this story to life:
Carrol Abel for the incredible and transcendent love and care she gives to all beings. Her photography drew me in and her words held my attention.
Shirley Allen, an angel here on earth who works beside her husband, Bruce, twenty-four hours a day to nurse and care for the animals rescued and brought to their home. Their Lucky Horse Rehabilitation Project is an inspiration and a reminder that we are all connected.
John Neil, Operations Manager of the BLM’s Palomino Valley Wild Horse and Burro Facility, for his generous time in allowing me a closer look behind the scenes. Readers of all ages must understand that humans need to be able to come together to find solutions for our beautiful horses and burros. It must start somewhere if we are going to make any progress.
Neda DeMayo, President of Return to Freedom, for her dedication to not only the Calico horses, but the many animals and humans she continues to help. I am overwhelmed and truly thankful for her pioneering efforts. Her facility has set the bar as a role model for all wild horse and burro sanctuaries.
My family for their continued love and support. They have stood by me through many storms and sunshine.
And most of all, to my life partner, Dean Mullaney, who understands the importance of this story. He has listened to all of my crazy revelations brought forth through meditation and trusted my intuition when I hopped on a plane to research this incredible gift brought to me by the spirits of the horses that wanted to share the truth that “We are one.”
Thank you all.
Stallions captured from Calico Mountains, now at Return to Freedom Wild Horse Sanctuary. Top: Leaf and Bucky. Bottom: Sutter’s Gold. Photography by Frances Loza.
“Return to Freedom” and the Calico Herd
In the winter of 2009 the BLM launched one of the largest and deadliest wild horse round-ups in recent years, removing 1,922 wild horses from their home in the Calico Mountains Complex in Northwestern Nevada.
In 2010 Return to Freedom embarked on an historic rescue of twenty-two stallions and eighty-four mares, all survivors of round-ups in the Calico Mountains and the Silver King Herd Management Area.
These rescued horses are destined for a large-scale wild horse preserve that Return to Freedom is creating in the western United States, where the stallions and mares will be reunited.
You can help make this possible. To learn more, please visit: http://www.returntofreedom.org/calico-herd/
From the Author
I am someone who meditates daily and the dreams and meditations used throughout the story are my own. The method described in the book is Sæ-sii Meditation. As an artist living in the sunny Florida Keys I was unaware of the problems surrounding the horses roaming the rocky terrain of the western United States. It was after the story came to me through meditation that I discovered there actually were Calico Mountains. In researching this colorful range I learned of the Calico horses and followed the trail of their desperate attempt to survive.
Although this book is fiction, it is based on fact. The wild horses and burros that roam freely in America are disappearing. This will continue unless we join together to find a more positive way to “manage” these beautiful, sentient creatures. Education is key. It is my hope that readers will discover for themselves how to be a voice for the wild horses and burros that are being rounded up and taken by force. Speak up, tell others, write your legislators, and do something. Thoughts alone will not stop the kill buyers from collecting their fees when these animals are sold into slaughter. Examine the evidence and make a choice. The wild horses and burros called to me to tell their story and I am passing their message along—WE ARE ONE.
For information on Sæ-sii
Meditation please visit: http://www.calicohorses.com/
For information regarding the wild horses and burros please visit:
hiddenvalleyhorses.com
returntofreedom.org
whmentors.org/lhp/orphan01.html
blm.gov
For information on quilting for charity, please visit: quiltsforkids.org
About the Author
Motivational speaker and author/illustrator Lorraine Turner is a two-time Emmy winner for her work as one of the lead designers for the NBA's Philadelphia 76ers. She has also created an award-winning Children's Activity Book and is a multiple Eisner Award nominee in her role as Art Director for the Library of American Comics. Her next book will be Unbridled Sea Horses and the Hurricane Trail.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 Lorraine Turner
Cover design by Idea and Design Works, LLC
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