Another Chance Read online

  Copyright © 2012 by Sandra Cuppett

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews. Printing, copying, or transferring into any other medium by any means is strictly forbidden and is a violation of United States Copyright law.

  First electronic edition published, September, 2012.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Lake City, Florida is indeed a real place, as is the Osceola National Forest, and the American Quarter Horse Association is a real organization, but other than using the names of these locations and the organization, any further resemblances is entirely coincidental. Any further resemblances to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, are also purely coincidental.

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to Red Tree Woman of the Lakota People who very tactfully explained the importance of making sure that the Death Chant would come from the heart of the chanter and it not be portrayed as a scripted chant.

  On this page I’d also like to thank the old school horse trainer who trusted me and touched my life more than any other one person except my husband. Ken Williams gave me a job doing what I’d only dreamed of as a possibility. He taught me to ride by putting me on colts he had for training, he taught me about people by having me run his hack line, and he taught me about myself by being my friend. Thank you Ken, for being such a good friend! I’m so glad to know that God touched your heart and showed you that you needed Him in your life. The heart He touched might have been a worldly heart before His touch, but it was always a good heart. See you in Heaven, my friend.

  Thanks also to the many friends and family who over the years have offered encouragement and constructive criticism, including the wonderful people at the old Suwannee Elementary West School who read, critiqued and even edited an earlier manuscript. I didn’t forget the lessons learned while I was employed there.

  DEDICATION

  To Bobbie Murray, my cousin, who died in the Storm of the Century at Dekel Beach, Florida, March, 1993. She read some of my very earliest attempts at writing and was so steadfast in her encouragement, I never gave up. Thank you Bugs.

  I must also include my husband, Sonny, and my girls Kasey and Kendal. Writing is a creative process that often makes a person short on patience and gives them tunnel vision. Thank you for loving me and putting up with me in spite of my need to create.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilog

  ANOTHER CHANCE

  by Sandra Cuppett

  Chapter One

  The shattering of glass woke her as the softly shaded bedroom window burst into thousands of pieces, glass flying into the dark room to scatter over the floor and onto the bed. A shadowy, hulking figure filled the gloomy opening for a moment, and then she realized someone had entered the room! Terrified, her blood turned to ice as she rolled out of the bed and scrambled for the closed bedroom door, broken shards of glass cutting into her feet. She could hear his hard breathing from the struggle of climbing through the window and the flowery smell of the jasmine just outside filled her senses.

  Desperately she grasped for the doorknob in the semi darkness of the room. She could hear steps clambering across the broken glass on the floor at the same time she could hear David’s strides rushing down the hall toward the door she was finally able to pull open and as in every nightmare she’d ever had, everything seemed to be in slow motion.

  She felt a hand close in the soft, flowing hair on the back of her head and snatch her backward roughly. She cried out with pain, then felt the solid, hard body of the man who had broken into her room, as she was jerked back against him. She tried to struggle, but he held her close and her struggles only caused him to hold her tighter. Her blood seemed to have melted and she tried to scream, but terror had closed her throat.

  David’s shadow filled the doorway briefly as he crossed the threshold and dove to her aid. She continued to struggle and twisted around to fight back, even though she felt her hair being pulled out by the handful and the broken glass on the floor repeatedly grated into her already bloody feet. The intruder’s strong arm lifted, releasing a faint odor of dried sweat as he pushed her to the side and behind him, but as she turned, she was able to see his face. Her breath caught in her throat! The blond unruly hair was jammed under a sweat stained, baseball cap, but she recognized him! It was Lambert!

  Her recognition happened at almost the same time that David slammed into him; both of them fell back against the side of the bed, and then slid down onto the floor amid the shards of glass. Desperately, she looked around in the dimly lit room for something to use as a weapon. Knowing there were no real weapons in the house, she stepped around the struggling men and slapped at the light switch beside the door causing the room to flood with sudden bright light. For a moment her eyes stung with the sudden burst of luminosity and her vision was blurred from tears that had welled up from the pain in her bloodied feet and her head where swatches of hair had been jerked out.

  When she turned back to look at them, David was astride Lambert, both his hands locked around one of Lambert’s forearms. He struggled to shake a long bladed knife out of that hand. Her heart froze in panic! It was a life or death struggle! She looked around the room again and couldn’t spot an effective weapon. She saw Lambert’s other hand form into a fist before it sailed up into David’s face and connected with a sickening sound. David’s head snapped back. He absorbed the blow and continued to hold onto Lambert’s arm, knowing his and Jordan’s lives depended on him keeping control of that appendage.

  “David!” she screamed. “Be careful!” Even as she said it, she thought it sounded stupid.

  “Get out of here!” he growled. “Run!”

  She started for the door but hesitated as she saw Lambert’s body jerk suddenly to the side, throwing David off balance. As he fell, he lost his grip on Lambert’s arm and the knife quickly closed the distance and slipped deep into David’s side. She screamed again and turned back toward the melee.

  Snatching up the only thing that might have any weight, one of David’s cowboy boots, she slammed it against Lambert’s head with all her strength, once, then again as he turned his head up to glare at her, momentarily stunned. He slumped over David’s prone body. She desperately shoved their attacker to the side and began to pull on David’s arm. “Come on, David!” She pleaded, tears streaming down her face. With her help, he struggled up into a dazed stance. Desperately she continued to pull on his arms and blindly he followed her down the narrow hall. They bumped from side to side, David’s uneven steps causing her to stagger along with him. They crossed the neatly furnished living room and she fumbled desperately for a moment unlocking the dead bolt and the lock on the knob before she was able to pull the door open. Then they stepped out onto the porch and
into the sweet scented darkness of the night. She heard Lambert coming down the hallway, rushing after them with long strides.

  “Hurry!” she pleaded, but by then, it was too late. With quick strides, Lambert crossed the living room, and then he hit them both with a full body slam that carried them all three tumbling down the half circle, cinderblock steps and onto the front lawn. They landed hard, the propulsion of his lunge carrying Lambert a little past them onto the grass, only briefly stunning him again.

  David struggled to his feet, ignoring the pain tearing through his stomach and the blood that practically poured from the stab wound. He threw himself onto Lambert before the other man had totally regained his footing, both of them once again falling to the ground. Jordan was horrified by the blood streaming off her husband and onto Lambert and the ground.

  “Run, Jordan!” she heard him groan. “Get help!” He was barely able to grapple with Lambert, using his weight to restrain the attacker, both sets of hands slick with wet blood. He knew his strength was draining along with his blood, but more than life, he wanted Jordan away from the man he was trying to pin down.

  She didn’t look back, but fled like a wild deer toward the neighbor’s house, screaming as she ran, but her screams felt as if they were muffled and her steps seemed stuck in cement.

  The screams came out as soft whimpers and the big red dog on the floor beside the bed jumped to his feet. This was nothing new to him. He lifted his big front feet onto the bed and leaned his wide head across to lick her cheek gently with a warm wet tongue. Her whimpering stopped and her eyes opened. For a moment the terror of the dream was reflected in the depths of her amber eyes, then they softened and she turned her head to look at the dog. Recognition and gratitude were her first calming emotions.

  Very slowly, she stretched one hand out to stroke his strong jaw and a smile spread across her lips. “Thanks, fella.” She lay like that for a long minute, deliberately pushing her nightmare into the past where it belonged. It wasn’t easy to do. The pain in her feet and throughout her body was real and in spite of the years, the smell of Lambert’s sweat and David’s blood still filled her nostrils during the dream and for some hours after. Then she shoved away the sheet that covered her slim body and shifted her feet onto the floor. Sitting up, she leaned over and hugged the dog’s big head against her chest. “If you’d been there that night, things would have been different, wouldn’t they?”

  The dog waved his whip like tail in circles of agreement. He might not have understood her question, but he knew her fear was gone now and all he ever wanted from life was for her to be happy and near him. She brushed the top of his head with an affectionate kiss. The big animal sighed deeply, his happiness complete.

  “It may not be time to get up yet, but I won’t sleep anymore. How about you?” The dog was used to her talking to him. His tail wagged an agreement with whatever she said. He sat quietly on his bedside rug and let his eyes follow her around the room as she went about her early morning routine. His entire life was wrapped around this woman and this home. He had no memories of any life before this. No memories of his mother or the six littermates he had competed with for food. Just Jordan, and to him it was more than enough. He was, by nature, focused on her and her emotions and as she had raised him, she had learned to accurately read his body language. They read each other like most people read a good book. She glanced at him and couldn’t help smiling. More than once, she had wondered what he thought about her nightmares.

  Once she was dressed, they went into the kitchen where she opened the back door and let him out for his brief early morning patrol. He loped off down to the barn, made a quick trip through it, his nose telling him all was well, then he headed off to his marking spots to lift his leg and mark his boundaries.

  As she watched the huge, red, Rhodesian Ridgeback dog move across the yard toward the barn, in the glow of the security light she couldn’t help smiling. The house, the barn and the horses housed there, the quiet of the countryside, all combined to make up her life now. It was a good life. It wasn’t the one she had imagined when she and David had married, but now all the plans they had made together had become a fading dream. She had been happy then, and it had taken time and hard work, but she was happy now, too. As Bhrandii, disappeared behind the barn, she stretched her arms above her head and yawned and then she went back inside the house.

  It had been several months since she’d dreamed of the night David died. She’d hoped she would never dream of it again. It usually took several days to get over it. Even now, the coppery smell of blood and the dank odor of masculine sweat were still locked in her nostrils. It would take hours, maybe days for the smell to go away completely.

  Five years didn’t sound like a long time to most people, but for her, it had been a lifetime.

  Jordan grew up in the house she was living in now. Back then it had been a lively place. She’d been an outgoing child and always had lots of friends and her parents made them welcome in their home.

  Jordan didn’t remember a time when there wasn’t a horse or two living in the small barn she had had remodeled to make the barn she used today. Her father enjoyed roping and her mother was a barrel racer until the death of Jordan’s ancient pony. By then Jordan was riding her mother’s horse occasionally and as the pair improved, her mother competed less and just let her daughter take over her horse. It was easy to see the nine year old girl and the well-schooled paint gelding made a dynamic pair of competitors. Then her mother had hauled them all over Florida and Georgia to barrel races. When she was twelve, her parents had given her a horse of her own, then her mother once again became the sole rider of the gentle paint gelding they had shared for so long.

  Her birthday horse was a five year old registered American Quarter Horse. It was Tempest Tide and he let her know right away that he wasn’t and didn’t intend to become a barrel horse.

  Jordan had become friends with a girl at school who rode hunter/jumpers so she and Tempest went to school to learn all they could about English horsemanship. Tempest was honest and when they started jumping, he gave it his best. His best was just okay, so Jordan concentrated on equitation and began to show him in Hunt Seat and English Pleasure classes when they went to shows. However, she had grown up riding western and although Tempest refused to put any effort in running barrels, he was calm and steady and whenever she entered him in western equitation classes, he was a star. He loved the challenges in Trail classes and she never entered him in one that he didn’t place in the top five, not matter how many other horses competed. Jordan appreciated the quiet attention her horse used in negotiating each obstacle the coarse managers set up. He approached each test with his ears flickering back and forth, to hear Jordan and to study the barrier before them. His obvious pleasure at successfully overcoming each obstacle showed Jordan how honest he was and she knew that the trail class was always their favorite class.

  Tempest taught her more than any human instructor ever could and her parents beamed with pride when they watched the two of them compete. To begin with, they were surprised that she no longer had the desire to fly around the barrels with as much speed as a horse could produce, but had learned to appreciate the more intricate side of horsemanship. She spent hours poring over books and videos showing dressage riders in English saddles putting their horses through their paces. She spoke with pride when she said that whatever they did in the English style could also be accomplished in the Western saddle without a double bit or a tight rein. She and Tempest worked at collection, counter canters, easy transitions and diagonals. He broke at the poll, worked off his rear end or his front end and always gave her what she asked for.

  By the time she was sixteen, she was riding colts for a friend of her father. Mac was a farrier and he had forgotten more about training horses than most people would ever learn. He was also of the opinion that dressage was a level of training that all horses benefited from. He had hoped to one day help his own children learn about training, but none
of the three ever wanted to train. In fact, they showed little interest in horses at all.

  Knowing that you can’t give a person what they don’t want, he wisely allowed his children to pursue their own interests and looked around for a young rider who wanted his gift. When he saw Jordan and Tempest improving from horse show to horse show, he talked to her father about letting her ride for him. Jordan’s parents agreed and happily watched as their daughter absorbed the skills that Mac shared with her. When Jordan graduated from high school, her parents gave her a car. Mac and his wife, Mary gave her a new saddle. It was a show saddle with silver trim, a matching headstall and breast collar. Tempest wore it a lot that summer as the two of them competed all over the south east. Then fall came.

  As much as she hated it, when Jordan went off to college, she knew she had to leave Tempest behind. She would be carrying a full load academically and wouldn’t have time for him. She gave her new saddle a good cleaning and set it up on a rack her father made for her in her bedroom. Her life as a horsewoman was put on hold, but she knew she could never give it up completely. It was part of her and always would be.

  The two years she spent at college were the best and worst she could imagine at that time. She hated living away from home and the family and friends she had grown up with. She hated not having a horse to ride, but she met David Larson and fell head over heels in love.

  David was a senior and Jordan was a sophomore when they started dating and by the end of the year, he had been offered a job as an assistant football coach in his hometown. Jordan knew he would be leaving after graduation, so when he asked her to marry him and go with him, she was overjoyed.

  Her parents wanted her to stay in school, but Jordan was in love. Their wedding wasn’t big, but by then it didn’t matter. Her parents had met David and accepted him and that made Jordan happier than anything.