Promise Canyon

“You’ll leave her here?”

“Probably have to, Lilly. But with any luck, the treatment will work and we’ll find a relieved horse by morning. You can go, Lilly. Clay and I will take it from here.”

“But. But will you leave her alone out here?” she asked.

“We’re not going to leave her in this condition. I’ll stay until I see which way it’s going. And if it gets worse …”

She stiffened immediately. “What?” she said.

“She has no owner that we can find and she’s in pain,” Nathaniel said. “If it gets worse, I’ll put her down.”

“No—”

“She’ll get every chance and every possible treatment, Lilly,” Clay said, his low voice soft and gentle. Reassuring. “We won’t let go of a horse that has a chance.”

“You promise?” she asked.

“Promise,” he said, giving her a firm nod. “Go on home. You’ve done enough. And thank you.”

She backed away almost fearfully. “No. Thank you,” she said. “Please take care of her.”

“Of course,” Clay said. “Try not to worry.”

As Lilly backed away, she muttered, “How could someone just leave her like that? Abandon her.?” But Clay and Nathaniel didn’t hear her; they were busy working with the horse.

When Lilly delivered feed for her grandfather, who everyone called Yaz, she used one of the company trucks. Her personal vehicle was a little red Jeep, which she’d park in the rear of the store. She spent the majority of her time managing invoices, ordering supplies and cutting payroll checks. Two afternoons a week she’d take out one of Yaz’s company trucks, and one of the guys who worked for him would load up the back each time she returned empty after deliveries. She made several runs to smaller stables and horse properties. The larger orders to big ranches and farms were handled by Yaz and a couple of his employees on the flatbed truck. Yaz was sixty-nine and still strong as a bull. Some farmers and ranchers grew their own feed; some picked up their feed and saved a little money.

Lilly took the pickup keys and clipboard to Yaz’s desk at the back of the store. “Got it done, Grandpa,” she said, handing off the paperwork and keys. “Need anything more from me today?”

“Thank you, Lilly. Any problems I should know about?”

“The delivery went just fine. Dr. Jensen is taking on another horse tomorrow so I’ll increase his delivery for the next time.”

“Does he need a special run?”

“He didn’t ask for an extra delivery, just an increase. I looked in the feed room and he’s well stocked. And he has a new guy working for him.” Her grandfather didn’t even look up from the signed delivery receipts she had handed him. “Virginia went ahead and retired the second the new guy was on his way,” she said. He nodded at his paperwork. “He hired himself an assistant. Big guy. A Navajo.”

Yaz looked up then and connected eyes with his granddaughter. He smiled just slightly. “Is that a fact? Why’d he come here?”

Lilly almost blushed; she had no idea because she didn’t ask him about himself at all. He had asked her questions, general flirting and being friendly she supposed, but all she knew of him was that he was Navajo and could carry two bales at a time. “I didn’t really talk to him. Just to say hello, that’s all.”

“Is he good with horses?”

“Yes, he. Grandpa, on my way home I found a sick horse by the road. Probably colic. I called Nathaniel and he came out with Clay—that’s the new guy’s name, Clay. They came right away but what we found out, the people who owned that pasture where the mare was and the house and barn that went with it, they cleared out and left their animals to starve. Nathaniel says they’re seeing more of that sort of thing all the time because of the economy and unemployment.”

“People who were having a hard time before are having a harder time now,” Yaz said.

“He said sometimes they have to choose between feeding their children and their animals. But there are rescue groups! Why wouldn’t they call a rescue group?”

Yaz looked up at her, his dark eyes gathering a little moisture, the flesh below and at the corners crepey and wrinkled. “Even the rescue groups are stretched to the limit. Then there’s pride and shame,” he said. He leaned back in his old desk chair. “When a man is running out on his debts, he doesn’t usually say goodbye.”

“You’d think whoever did that could’ve swallowed enough pride to let someone know the animals were left behind,” she said.

“You’d think,” he agreed. “The horse going to be all right?”

She shrugged. “Nathaniel was treating her with pain medication and mineral oil when I left, even though there’s no one to pay him.”

Yaz looked down at the clipboard again, paging through her collection of deliveries. “Well, at least she got the best, and at a bargain.”

“True,” Lilly agreed softly. “You’ll want to meet the new man—he grew up around Flagstaff.”

A smile hinted at the corners of Yaz’s mouth. “It will be good to see a neighbor, even an inferior neighbor.” The Hopi and Navajo had long lived side by side, alternately getting along and squabbling. “I look forward to knowing him. See you on Sunday.” That was the day they set aside to eat together at his house. It was a traditional house—Lilly cooked. She also made sure her grandfather’s house was clean and his laundry done.

So much for her nontraditional ways ….

“Sunday,” she echoed, leaving the warehouse.

Her heart was still heavy, however. It was likely Lilly had an issue with this business about the horse for more than one reason. Lilly’s mother had abandoned her when she was an infant, leaving her with her grandparents on the reservation in Arizona. Lilly’s grandma had passed when Lilly was nine and while Yaz was grief-stricken, he was not intimidated by the prospect of raising her alone, without the help of a woman. In fact, it was possible he’d risen to the occasion. He seemed to relish his parenting duties. And at thirteen, the boy she’d loved had run out on her, leaving her high and dry, and with bigger problems than she knew how to deal with. Abandonment was an issue for her and she knew it.

It was that same year that Yaz brought her to California. He heard about the sale of the feed store from a friend of a friend, and for his entire life on the reservation he’d been saving and investing for just such an opportunity. That had been fourteen years ago. She hadn’t moved out of her grandfather’s house until she was twenty-five and that had been a difficult transition; he clearly wanted her to stay with him forever or at least until she was married.

While Lilly was on her way to her little rented house at the edge of Fortuna, she realized she’d have to go back to that pasture. She needed to know if the horse was there alone, if she was hurting, if she was sick, if she was. Her mind couldn’t form the word dead. She needed closure. And if Nathaniel and Clay had left her alone, Lilly would be the one to stay with her until she was either recovered or. Again, she couldn’t allow certain potential outcomes to enter her mind.

But when she did allow her mind to go that far, she knew that if the horse had to be put down, Lilly would stroke her head and send her off with loving words.

By the time she got home, fixed herself a portobello, cheese, pepper and tomato sandwich and wrapped it, a couple of hours had passed since she’d first found the horse. She grabbed a bag of soy nuts and almonds, a bottle of apple juice and one of water. Then she dug through the detached garage for an old sleeping bag that smelled vaguely of storage. If the horse didn’t have serious digestion problems, she’d have taken a few carrots and a couple of apples, but the mare would be off food for the time being.

It was almost seven by the time she was back on the road, seven-thirty by the time she approached the place she’d found the mare. It was August; the sun was just lowering in the west. Because of the tall trees it darkened a bit earlier here than on the Pacific Coast. She was shocked to see that not only were the truck and trailer still there, but surrounded by reflective, triangular collapsible cones to notify any other vehicles that might come along after dark.

Lilly pulled up in front of the pickup and got out, leaving her food behind. It was already dusk, but she could see Clay walking the horse in a wide circle around the pasture. She remembered from her horse days in childhood that was one of the treatments for colic, a little walking. Not too much; a safe and moderate amount. She didn’t see Dr. Jensen.

She jumped the fence to get in the pasture. Soon enough he came toward her, leading the mare. “You’re back,” he said. “Need something?”

“Yes,” Lilly answered, “I need to know if she’s going to be all right.”

“She’s hanging in there. She needs a little time.”

“She’s not getting worse, is she?”

“Nope, she’s doing fine. But she’s pumped full of Banamine and it’s a waiting game to see if the treatment worked for her. She’s still stressed. She’s still pawing and stretching out. This is an unhappy lady here. Is that the only reason you’re here?”

Lilly shrugged and put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I was afraid you’d leave her and she’d be. I didn’t want her to be alone. In case … Well, in case she got a lot worse.”

“Lilly,” he said, bending a little until their eyes connected. “I wouldn’t leave a sick animal unless I had to. I’ll see it through. You don’t have to worry.” He straightened. “Those blue eyes really freak me out.”

She grinned at him. “Freaked out my grandfather, too.”

“I’ll bet the old Hopi just about passed out.”

“Well, since you have to have the blue DNA on both sides and he thinks both himself and my grandma are a hundred percent Native, it means there was a bad pilgrim back there somewhere.” She smiled brightly. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet,” he said.

“Would you like half a sandwich?”

He lifted one expressive brow. “Whatcha got?”

“Mushroom, tomato, peppers and cheese. On wheat.”

He grimaced. “I was promised a welcome dinner of pot roast,” he informed her.

She smiled lazily. “Do they deliver?”

“I sincerely hope so, but it’s more likely there will be leftovers. Annie came to fetch Nathaniel home and I offered to stay on, but I think I’m going to be able to take the horse back to the clinic before too much—”

Right then the horse decided to stretch out again to ease her abdominal pain.

“You’re going to take her to Nathaniel’s?”

“Lilly, it’s for the convenience of dealing with her condition, not to give her a new home. Nate didn’t want to transport her until she was more stable and I think we’re just about there, but that doesn’t guarantee her recovery. If she doesn’t improve, he won’t let her go on like this, in pain.”

“I understand.”

“What were you going to do out here at night?”

“I don’t know. Eat my sandwich. Be with her, I guess.”

He tilted his head. “Do you have horses?”

She shook her head. “Never have, but when I was real young I rode some. Well, it’s been a long time, but when I was a kid, I was surrounded by them. Back on the reservation. I’ve ridden with Annie a few times, but I’m not around horses much, just when I deliver their feed. Finding her like this, it kind of made me responsible in a way. At least for making sure she wasn’t alone.”

“It could be midnight before she’s either better, worse, ready to transport or …” He didn’t finish.

“I brought a jacket and a—” She felt silly about the sleeping bag. Did she really plan to lie on the ground next to a twisting, kicking horse through the night? Even in August, in the mountains or surrounded by them, it was cold after dark. “I’d be willing to share the sandwich,” she said. “Who knows, you might not get pot roast delivery for a long time.”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m taking a chance on a mushroom sandwich.”

“You might actually like it. Hey, you aren’t planning on leaving this horse in the pasture, are you? Because, if I remember, she can’t be grazing. Isn’t she off food?”

“I’m on top of it, Lilly. The barn and corral where she was kept—Nathaniel looked at it and it’s out of the question. It’s filthy, cluttered, the fence in poor condition. Once she takes a turn for the better, I’m going to take her to Nathaniel’s clinic. And until she’s feeling a lot better, believe me, I won’t let her graze. She’s miserable.”

“Yeah,” Lilly said, connecting with the mare’s eyes. “Be right back,” she said. She jogged toward her Jeep. With her hands on a fence post, she put one booted foot on the top barbed wire, pressed down and jumped over. Getting back over the fence was slightly more difficult—her hands were full of food and drink. “Bottled water or apple juice?” she asked him.

“You first,” he said. “I have a couple of warm colas in the truck.”

She smirked and handed him the apple juice. “This is much better for you. And hold these, please.”

“Nuts?” he asked.

“Also good for you, as is the half sandwich.”

“I don’t know ….”

“Be a big boy,” she said, and then thought, he is really such a big boy! But she kept her eyes cast down and opened the wrapping of her sandwich. She’d already cut it in half, thankfully. She put her water on the ground and traded with him—sandwich for bags of nuts. “Think she’ll let us sit down?” she asked.

Clay dropped the rope and backed away. “Better give her space. She isn’t thinking about her human friends right now. She could drop on you and grind you right into the pasture.”

Lilly followed him about ten feet away from the mare, then carefully sat. “I probably have a … a blanket or sleeping bag in the Jeep ….” She still couldn’t admit to planning to sleep beside a sick horse she had no real connection to.

“Yeah, me, too,” he said. “But the ground is dry enough.” Down he went, crossing his legs. “And so. We have a mushroom sandwich.”

“One of my favorites,” she said. “What brought you to Nate’s practice?” With the question, she bit into hers.

“I have family nearby. A married sister with a family in Grace Valley. And if you come from the mountains, the cold mountains at about seven thousand feet, Los Angeles County is a little low, hot and smoggy. Even out in the hills.”

“Why don’t you just go back to Flagstaff?”

“Because there’s no opportunity in Flagstaff. Do you know how many Northern Arizona U PhDs are waiting tables there because they just can’t make themselves leave? And God knows there aren’t any rich horse breeders looking for help on the reservation. Nah, this is pretty, around here, and close to family, and Nathaniel is good people and he’s offering me a terrific opportunity to help grow his business. How’d you end up here?” he asked. And then he bit into his sandwich. He chewed a bit, then winced and made a face.

She couldn’t help it—she laughed and covered her mouth with her hand.

“How do you eat this?” he asked.

“I like it,” she said, still laughing. “Give it to me. Eat nuts, that’ll hold you awhile.”

“So?” he asked, passing the sandwich back.

“So my grandma died and a few years later my grandpa heard through a friend that the feed company was for sale and he thought he could make it work. He’d always wanted his own business. And it was just him and me, so …”

“Where are your parents?” he asked.

“Anyone’s guess,” she answered, filling her mouth again.

He let her chew. He piled nuts in his mouth while she worked on her mouthful. When she had finally swallowed, he asked, “So, are you …?”

“Grandpa and I moved here when I was thirteen and I think it was the right move,” she said, cutting off his next question. “Because I did well in school, made new friends, and although Yaz will never admit it, he’s making money on silage and hay.” She laughed and shook her head. “Don’t try to trick an old Hopi into telling you what he’s got in his pocket. He’s crafty.”

Clay studied her for a moment, really wanting to know a lot more about her and fully aware she was keeping her answers impersonal. “I think maybe you’re crafty, too.”

She smiled as though she had a secret. “I have been trained by the best.”

She bit into her sandwich and the mare farted.

“Well, that was nice,” Lilly said. “Very ladylike.”

Clay laughed at her. “Music to my ears,” he said. He stood up. “I think she’ll be going in the trailer real soon. I think what you call that in veterinary medicine is progress.”

Lilly hated the idea of ending the conversation even if it was getting a little close for comfort for her. “Shouldn’t you wait until you’re sure that blockage clears?”

“As long as she’s not in pain and there’s progress, I’ll be more than happy to hose out the trailer when I’m back at the clinic.” He stood and went to the mare, took the lead rope and led her to the fence. He pulled a small wire cutter out of his back pocket and made fast work of the barbed-wire fence. Once cut, the wire sprang away and gave them an exit. Why worry about the pasture’s security now? The owners had clearly fled.

But he turned toward Lilly. She cradled all her picnic stuff in her arms—nuts, remaining sandwich, bottles …."That was so nice, Lilly,” he said. “So nice that you’d worry about the horse and come to be with her. And so nice that you’d share your meal with me.”

“Even though it was a mushroom sandwich?” she asked.

When he looked at her, his brows relaxed and his eyes seemed to darken. “Even though,” he said.

Then he made clicking noises and said, “Come on, precious. Let’s get you outta here ….” And he led her to the trailer.

Three

Colic, a term that covered a litany of equine intestinal disorders from a bowel obstruction to twisted intestines, was one of the most common and dangerous illnesses in horses. If diagnosed early, treated quickly and if it wasn’t the critical variety that required surgery, the prognosis was typically good.

Clay delivered the mare to the Jensen stable and reported improved gut sounds and even a little excrement in the trailer, evidence that there was some digestive action and the blockage might clear. Luckily for him, he was able to wash up, sit down to some of Annie’s fantastic pot roast and visit with his friends before the worst of the horse’s recovery happened in the stall. When he returned to the stable, he could have sworn the mare was smiling.

“Well,” he said. “Feeling better?” She saw him and whinnied. “Tender belly, I’ll bet. And Nathaniel’s records of his single visit to the Jerome house indicate your name is Blue Rhapsody. You’re a beauty. Must’ve half killed them to leave you behind.” Then he shook his head and muttered, “Things must’ve gotten real bad around the old homestead.”

One anonymous phone call to Nathaniel Jensen’s answering machine stating that the horse was being abandoned might have seen a brighter immediate future for the mare. Nathaniel might not be in the rescue business, but he’d have tried his best to make arrangements.

At 6:00 a.m. Clay turned her out in one of the small paddocks where she could see the Jensen horses. Then he went about the business of cleaning stalls. When he’d finished that, he went back to check on the mare. It shouldn’t have surprised him at all to find that Hopi girl leaning on the fence at the crack of dawn, watching her. He got rid of the rake and leaned on the rail beside her. “They call her Blue Rhapsody.”

“Blue,” she said in a breath, keeping her eyes on the horse. “Perfect.” Then she turned toward him. “And she’s going to be all right?”

“Unless there’s a chronic condition that hasn’t revealed itself,” he said with a shrug. “My instincts say you probably had it right—the owners left out feed, thinking they’d give her a better chance to survive and be found, and it did more harm than good.”

“What will happen to her now?” Lilly asked.

“If she proves healthy and sound, which I assume she will, we’ll make some calls and see if we can place her. She’s actually a valuable horse. They shouldn’t have left her. A black Arabian with those markings, gentle, bred a few times which means a proven uterus and she’s a good potential surrogate, twelve isn’t too old …”

“I can’t imagine why they didn’t look for at least a few hundred dollars for her,” Lilly said.

“Maybe they did,” Clay said. “Or maybe they came by the horse some other way—took her to help someone out, or she was a gift for the kids, or something like that—and they weren’t really aware of her potential value. They weren’t horse people. They just had Blue.”

“Blue,” she repeated. “It suits her.”

“She’s twelve and yet Nathaniel only made one visit to that farm a year ago. He didn’t know her. That means she’s not from around here. She has a story we don’t know.”

They stood quietly and watched her in the paddock. She seemed peaceful and relaxed. “I should talk to Nathaniel about her,” Lilly said.

“Oh?”

“Will he want to sell her? Blue?”

Clay frowned and shook his head. “He doesn’t own her, Lilly.”

“I wonder if he’d give it a few days to see if I know anyone responsible who might want to take her …”

“Oh?” Clay asked again.

“I have friends. My grandpa has customers. People post animal sales on his bulletin board sometimes, so. I’d feel so much better if I knew she’d found a good home. Where she’d be appreciated—she’s such a nice horse. Didn’t you get a sense from her that she’s sweet-natured but has a wicked sense of humor, too?”

Actually, he had gotten that from her, but since that sort of thing happened to him all the time he tended to take it for granted. Lilly’s blue eyes twinkled in anticipation, so Clay just said, “You have your few days, Lilly. Call your friends or customers. Consider the favor granted and I’ll talk to Nathaniel for you. He won’t be hard to convince.”

“He won’t?”

“He likes it when things work out for the best.” He felt an urge to lift her chin with one finger and look into those deep blue eyes for a long time. Maybe whisper to her; maybe even … “I’d better get back to work, Lilly. Stay as long as you like. I’ll be in the barn if you need anything.”

Getting acclimated to Nathaniel’s practice was more than a full-time job for Clay, and as they didn’t have any hands at the moment, the daily stable chores were handled by Clay, Nathaniel and Annie. Since Clay’s main function would be assisting the practice and managing the barn, he’d have to bring on a hand or two right away, probably two hands for now—one full-time and one part-time. He’d have to talk over some ideas with Nathaniel later.

With the troubled economy, it was a good time to grow the equine business; Nathaniel’s farm practice would keep them afloat. While some stables were struggling, some even closing, Jensen’s could grow slowly because it was not solely dependent on the horse business. Nathaniel said that he’d eventually bring on another vet to assist in the livestock practice and more hands to free up his time so he could concentrate on horses. But all that was in the future.

Their new customer arrived the first afternoon Clay was on the job and they were all on hand to greet Magnum’s Winning Streak, known as Streak for short. He came from the National champion Magnum Psyche line; he was young, unproven, unbroke and undisciplined, but magnificent to look at. He was powerful and impressive, but there was something about him Clay just couldn’t put his finger on. The original owner had decided to let him go, sell him, rather than invest more money in him, which was how Ginny Norton came to own him. He was truly beautiful; definitely irresistible.

Ginny’s hired hand, Will Burry, expertly backed him out of the trailer and once he was free he immediately began to snort, dig at the ground and pull away with his tail propped in the air. Will tried to coo, soothe and move the horse to the round pen to turn him loose, but he was a handful and it took Will a while. Then he faced his gathering, pulled the hat off his head and wiped a sleeve across his brow. “I told Miss Norton, there’s more to this horse. I’ve seen plenty of unbroke animals, but he acts downright dangerous. Young fella doesn’t trust anyone or anything, and he’s got a lousy temper besides.”