“Hey! Break it up,” he called, swinging his prosthetic leg around so he could stand up and stop the fight.
Julie helped the other adults pull the kids away. Marcus lay curled on the cement floor, his arms raised over his head to protect his face from the angry blows. His artificial hand had come off in the struggle and lay beside him, a chilling sight in the early evening sunlight. But these kids needed someone to love them in spite of their handicaps, and Julie didn’t shy away as she picked it up so it wouldn’t get trampled.
A little girl stood sobbing loudly as she held the shattered remnants of her bowl between her left hand and the stump of her right arm. In a glance, Julie could guess what had happened. Cade had told her earlier in the kitchen that Marcus seemed to be backsliding. He kept causing fights and refused to do anything they asked. No one liked him, and Dal had almost given up hope of getting through to him. Not even Kristen seemed to be able to make him behave.
“What’s going on here?” Dal asked. “I turn my back for five seconds and bedlam erupts. What happened?”
As Marcus sat up, one of the other boys snatched the prosthetic hand away from Julie and threw it hard at Marcus. “He keeps ruining our art projects. We’re sick of him.”
Dal held up an arm, speaking in a calming voice. “Don’t do that, Robbie. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“But he won’t stop,” another girl whined. “We even asked him nicely many times.”
“And l-look what he did to my bowl.” The first girl held up the broken pieces, sniffing back another sob.
Dal helped Marcus stand, a deep frown creasing his brow. “Is this true, Marcus? Did you break Susan’s bowl?”
Marcus glared his response, a trickle of blood running from his nose. Obviously, the kids had reached the breaking point and decided to take matters into their own hands.
Marcus didn’t respond. His eyes filled with hate as he glowered at each child. He yanked his arm out of Dal’s grasp and stepped away.
Isolated and alone.
“Go on, Marcus. We don’t want you here,” Robbie yelled as he took a step on his two prosthetic legs. “You’re barely even an amputee, just missing your hand. You don’t know what it’s like to be a real amputee. You’re just a spoiled, rotten kid. No one wants you. Go away!”
“Robbie, that’s enough,” Dal growled. “I want Marcus. I don’t want him to go away. Now apologize to each other.”
Marcus’s eyes widened, his face going very pale. Without a word, he bulldozed his way through the wall of children and raced toward the stable. Dal called after him, but he kept going.
Setting his paintbrush on the table, Dal shook his head at Robbie. “You shouldn’t have said that, Robbie. No matter what, we never throw our people away.”
Robbie jutted his chin. “Well, it’s true. We don’t want him here.”
Dal shook his head, his lips tight with disapproval as he looked at all the kids. “You don’t understand. Marcus is alone. His parents were both killed in a plane crash. At the end of this summer, he’s going back to foster care. Though all of you are amputees, you still have your moms and dads waiting at home for you. People who love and care for you. But Marcus has no one. He’s all alone in this world. So maybe you all could have a little compassion for him and try to make friends.”
Julie had heard enough. Dal’s words burrowed deep within her soul. No matter what, we never throw our people away. And she couldn’t help thinking that included her. If anyone understood Marcus’s predicament, she did. She remembered the empty feeling of abandonment after her parents had died. The feelings of inadequacy. As if she didn’t belong anywhere. No one wanted her. She was a problem. A burden. And even Dal’s gentle words and deeds couldn’t soothe her aching heart. That was how Marcus was feeling right now. She knew it with absolute clarity. And she had to do something about it.
Right now.
Turning, she walked to the stables, looking for Marcus. Dusk lit up the western sky with fingers of pink and gold. Stepping inside, she gazed through the musty shadows, breathing in the heavy scent of hay and horses.
Where could he be?
She walked the line of animal stalls, peering inside each one. The mustangs gazed back at her, snorting, swishing their tails as she passed by.
At the last stall, she stopped. Polly lay inside, nestled down for the night in a bed of clean straw. Marcus was curled up beside her, his eyes filled with angry defiance.
“Marcus.” Julie spoke his name softly, gently.
“Go away.” He buried his face against the horse.
“I will in just a minute. But first, I want to talk to you. You don’t need to say or do anything. Just listen.”
Julie opened the gate to the stall and stepped inside. She sat nearby in the straw, bracing her back against the rough wooden wall.
“I was just like you once,” she said.
The boy didn’t move.
“My parents both died when I was fifteen years old,” she continued.
Still not a word from the boy, but his shoulders seemed to shift slightly.
“I was older than you are, but I still thought my world had ended. I was sent away to foster care. I had to leave the boy I loved and all of my friends. My family was gone. I lived with strangers I didn’t think wanted me. Not really. I didn’t belong. Not anywhere.”
He lifted his head just a bit and peered at her with dark, tearful eyes. “How’d they die?”
His words sounded muffled and vague, but she heard them.
“In a terrible car crash. The police told me they hit a deer that went up through the windshield. I don’t know more than that. Just that the car went off the road, rolled several times, and they both died instantly.”
Marcus sniffed, speaking in a biting tone, tinged by the threat of tears. “Mine died in a plane crash. Something was wrong with the engine. Daddy tried to emergency-land us, but we still crashed. I don’t remember what happened after that. I woke up in the hospital. They took my hand, and Mom and Daddy were both dead.”
She nodded, her own eyes welling up with tears. “I know. And I’m so very sorry, sweetheart.”
“They’re not coming back, are they?”
“No, honey. They can’t. But I have no doubt they wished that they could. I hate that you have to go through this. I wish so much that I could give you your parents back.”
He coughed, as though he couldn’t breathe around a lump in his throat. “What did you do when your mom and dad died?”
She licked her bottom lip, trying to gather her courage. “I kept living. That’s all any of us can do. I didn’t want to, at first. Things went from bad to worse. I had a foster dad who treated me real bad. I hated everyone, including myself.”
Her throat constricted, and she was forced to take a deep breath. She feared she might be saying too much, but then decided Marcus needed honesty right now. Not speaking the words wouldn’t clear his troubled mind or make his problems go away. Like her, he needed the truth. She hadn’t spoken about this in years, to anyone. Not even Berta. And yet, uttering the words seemed to cleanse her soul. To set her free. The abuse was behind her. She could let it go now.
“What happened to you?” Marcus gazed at her with wide, sympathetic eyes.
“My social worker found out about it and moved me. I went to live with a kind woman who loved and raised me as her own. I’ll never forget my real mom and dad, but I love Berta so much. She became my mother. There are good people out there, Marcus. People who want you.”
“Not me.” He shook his head, his eyes filled with disbelief and defeat. “No one wants me. They all hate me.”
“If that were true, the people here at Sunrise Ranch would have sent you away long ago. Dal, Lyn, Cade and me. We all want to be friends with you. We want to help. Don’t you think you ought to
at least give us the benefit of the doubt? I mean, what can it hurt to give us all a chance?”
He looked at her, his thick eyelashes spiked by tears. “I’m s-scared.”
And then he broke down. His shoulders shook with deep, gut-wrenching sobs. His tears tore at her heart, and she couldn’t stay away any longer. She scooted in close, pulling him into her arms. Rocking him gently as his weeping and Polly’s deep breaths filled the air around her.
With his face buried against her shoulder, Marcus murmured his woes to her. Fear that no one would ever want him. That he might have trouble in school and no one would help him with his homework. Or come watch him play football, if he could even throw the ball. Or make him eat all his vegetables.
Fear that he’d never see his parents again.
“Of course you’ll see them again, honey.” She brushed a hand over his dark hair in soothing strokes.
He took a hiccupping breath. “How do you know?”
“Because I don’t believe God would take our parents away from us forever. He loves us too much. We’ll see them again. I have faith in this. I believe it to be true.”
“I was bad the day they died,” he said. “I didn’t take the garbage out like Dad asked me to. And it started stinking, so Mom got angry at me. We yelled at each other. I never got to say I was sorry or that I loved them.”
“They know. Just like you know they loved you.”
Yes, she understood these feelings. The guilt a child felt because their parents had died and they thought it was their fault. For the longest time, Julie had blamed herself. No one had told her any different. That it wasn’t her doing.
It just happened.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Marcus. It wasn’t your fault that your parents died. I know they’d be here with you if they had a choice. Surely you know that deep inside. And I have no doubt your mom would tell you it’s okay to be scared. This is all new to you. But everything is going to be all right. Just trust in God, and you’ll be fine.”
And saying the words out loud brought Julie a measure of comfort, too. For the first time in a long time, she believed what she said. That God loved her. That He had a plan for her life. That He hadn’t abandoned her.
A subtle sound came from the gate, and she looked up. Dal stood there watching her, an intense expression on his face. Listening to every word.
But somehow, she didn’t mind. Not anymore.
* * *
Dal hadn’t meant to intrude. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But he’d heard a lot. And now he knew the truth. He gritted his teeth when he thought about what the foster dad had done to Julie. His mind went crazy thinking about all the possibilities. Verbal, physical or sexual abuse. If Dal had known, he might have killed the guy. He just hoped the social worker had ensured the man was prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
Listening to Julie comfort Marcus did something to Dal deep inside. Her natural motherly instincts touched him as nothing else could. Her gentle reassurance that everything would be okay. That God loved them.
Marcus deserved a sweet mother like Julie. Every kid did.
The boy looked up at Dal and sniffled, his nose red and dripping. “I... I’m sorry, Dal. I wasn’t very nice to the other kids. And I’m awful sorry.”
Dal lifted the latch to the gate and stepped inside. “Hey, that’s okay, pardner.”
Julie released the boy, letting him sit up. She searched her pocket for a clean tissue and handed it to him. Marcus blew his nose and wiped his face.
“You feel like coming outside for Campfire Hour now?” Dal asked.
Marcus lifted his brows in a half smile. “Are we roasting marshmallows again?”
Dal nodded. “Every night, you know that. It’s a Sunrise Ranch tradition.”
Marcus gave a vague smile. Both Julie and the boy stood, but Julie kept hold of his hand. Marcus looked down at the bed of straw, pursing his lips together in bewilderment. “I guess the kids are pretty mad at me, huh?”
Dal ran a hand through the child’s thick hair. “I think they’ll forgive you soon enough, if you apologize. And on Monday morning, we get a whole new batch of kids who’ve never met you before. It’s a chance to start fresh and make new friends, don’t you think?”
A light gleamed in Marcus’s eyes. “That’s right. I can start over, can’t I?”
“Of course, you can,” Julie said. “It’s never too late, sweetheart. Because we’ll never give up on you. Not ever.”
“Even if I do bad things? I may not always be good.”
She laughed, and Dal thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Gracious, kind and loving.
“Yes, even if you do bad things, we’ll be right here for you,” she said.
“That’s right,” Dal said. “You can come back to Sunrise Ranch every summer, if you like.”
Dal wondered if that would be enough. Marcus needed so much more. He needed what all of them needed. A family to love him. A place to belong each and every day.
“Come on,” Dal said. “Let’s go outside. After you apologize, I’m sure the other kids will want to do the same.”
Marcus nodded and took a step. While Julie held the boy’s right hand, Dal took hold of Marcus’s stump. The scarred skin felt soft and warm to his touch. Dal didn’t mind. He was an amputee, too. And this was his purpose at Sunrise Ranch. To help kids like Marcus. To show them that they still had so much to offer the world.
That their scars didn’t bother him at all.
As they walked outside, Dal noticed that the tall mercury lights had been turned on. He could see the flickering flames over by the fire pit and the crowd of children as they prepared their s’mores, laughed and talked about the next day’s activities. And in that moment, walking side by side with Julie and Marcus, Dal felt beyond grateful that she’d been here tonight. With all the doctors, specialists and staff members here at the ranch, it had taken a tender forest ranger to finally get through to Marcus.
A feeling of relief blanketed Dal. The conviction that they’d done something good for Marcus tonight and that the boy would be all right. After all, that was what Dal was here for. To make a difference for others. To help in any way he could.
So why did he still feel empty inside? Why did he feel as though life should hold so much more for him?
Chapter Twelve
“I vote we leave Gilway Trail just like it is. It don’t need no changes, and we don’t want a bunch of handicapped kids riding up there anyway.”
Dal froze in his seat. Sitting inside the civic center in town, the blast from the air conditioner did little to cool his steaming face. He was stunned and angry.
Speechless.
“We’re not taking a vote, Mr. Watson. This meeting is merely to discuss the proposed changes and voice your concerns.” Julie stood before a dry-erase board at the front of the room, her eyes narrowed on Owen Watson, a grizzled old rancher. Dressed in her Forest Service uniform, she choked an eraser in her right hand, doing an admirable job of controlling her temper.
“Most of them act like retards, the way they hobble around town and such,” Owen Watson said.
Someone snickered at the back of the room. Dal jerked his head in that direction, but saw nothing except a few other ranchers wearing a variety of blue jeans, flannel shirts and stoic faces. Each one held a cowboy hat in their lap. Good old boys, with an archaic mentality to match.
“I’m sure you’d hobble, too, if you lost one of your legs. But I guarantee there is nothing wrong with their minds.” Julie’s voice sounded curt.
“That trail has been there since before my grandpappy was born. It don’t need to be changed now for a bunch of city kids that got no business being up there in the first place,” Owen said.
Dal grit his teeth. A barrel-chested man wit
h a full gray beard, Owen had dominated the ranching business around Stokely for more than thirty years. Dal had tried to warn Julie about these biases, but even he hadn’t expected this unreasonable argument. Not from a man who went to church every week and claimed he was a Christian.
“You’re wrong, Mr. Watson.” Julie met Owen’s glare with one of her own. “Every one of those kids has a right to be up on that trail, the same as you. And it’s my job to enforce the law, even if I have to call in the sheriff to do so.”
Bravo! Dal wanted to stand up and cheer. He’d been worried about this meeting, with good reason. After what Lyn Baldwin had contended with back when she’d been the ranger and had to round up the wild mustangs in the area, he knew the small-town mentality was frequently difficult to deal with. But Julie seemed to be holding her own.
A swell of pride filled Dal’s chest. When he considered who Julie was and where she’d come from, he couldn’t help admiring her courage and professionalism.
Owen made a harrumphing sound deep in the back of his throat. His heavy jowls bunched out like a bristly porcupine. Dal couldn’t believe the lack of charity in the other man. His bias aimed at the amputee kids was cruel and bigoted.
“You watch and see.” Owen’s loud voice blasted the room. “Those kids will start a forest fire up there, or leave their trash all around the mountains. Right now, things is mighty nice up there when we want to go hunting, and we don’t want no changes. I don’t want to have to evacuate my place if those kids start a wildfire.”
A murmur of agreement filtered through the small crowd, almost devoid of women. Dal sucked back a harsh breath. He gazed at Julie, wondering what she’d say next. She didn’t breathe. Didn’t move a muscle for a very long time.
“You don’t know that, Mr. Watson,” she said. “The kids from Sunrise Ranch have constant adult supervision. They aren’t going to run around starting wildfires any more than you are. Your accusations are completely unfounded.” Her voice sounded clipped and filled with disdain.
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