Another Chance Read online

  He resisted the urge to slap her out of the car. He needed her right now. He needed money and a place to hide for a while. He’d just have to keep her happy for a little longer. He’d keep reminding himself that the time he invested in her brought him that much closer to Jordan.

  “It’ll be over soon enough, Ruby. We’re going to be just fine.” He assured her softly.

  Now the traffic was clear and still without lights she pulled out onto the highway. Once they were rounding a long curve so no one could see them she flipped on the headlights and breathed a deep breath of relief. In only a few hours they would be at her small house in a different state.

  Chapter Four

  Jordan held the lead rope attached to the old horse while the farrier carefully trimmed the excessive growth off the bottom of the hoof. They used the halter and lead rope, both knowing that Tempest would have stood quietly without any restraints of any kind. That was just the kind of horse he was.

  “You know, Jordan,” the farrier stated. “You really need a new show horse. Tempest is getting pretty old.”

  She nodded, her long blond braids bobbing up and down across her chest as she turned and rubbed the blazed face of the animal she had owned for so many years. “You’re absolutely right, Mac. He’s twenty now. I have been looking at a few, but just haven’t found anything that I really like.”

  She had changed since she had moved back home. She had lost some weight from the amount of physical work it took to run the stable and where she had been blessed with soft curves before, what there was of her now, was lean solid curves, defined by hard, strong muscles. Five years hadn’t only changed her physically. Now, instead of the outgoing, friendly girl she had always been, she was quieter and much more solitary. She didn’t often socialize with the young people she had grown up with. Most of them were married and she just couldn’t seem to face their togetherness. She hoped that maybe one day she could, but that day hadn’t happened yet. She also sensed that they weren’t quite comfortable around her. The double tragedy of surviving the loss of both parents and then her husband within such a short time seemed to make them unsure of how to talk with her.

  She had been a challenge when she came home to all those who truly cared about her. There were days she didn’t want to get out of bed and there were days when she didn’t want to live. Life seemed to stretch out before her like a dark tunnel that she dreaded facing when she woke each morning. Mac and his wife Mary, Sheriff John Davis and Bro. Tommy, the preacher at the church she had always gone to, had all pestered and harassed her when she wanted to just give up. They helped where they could and refused to allow her to give up, and finally, a day at a time; she decided she would learn how to live again.

  It was Mac who appeared at her door one day and presented her with a small, wriggling ball of sleek reddish brown energy with a cowlick of hair that grew backward, up the middle of its back toward its head. He handed her the pup and refused to listen to her protests.

  “You need something to make you get up in the mornings. Something besides yourself and that horse out in the pasture that doesn’t need much looking after.” He referred to Tempest who had become a pasture ornament. Mac knew she had always wanted a dog. Even when she was growing up, the farm had one dog that helped her father work cows, but was not a pet. Next to her own horse she had wanted a dog. The horse had happened, the dog hadn’t.

  The man set the geldings hoof down on the ground and stood up, rubbing his back as he turned to look at the young woman. He’d known her all her life and had been one of the people who had encouraged her to start her own training stable when she decided she would go on with her life four years ago.

  “I know a man out in Idaho that raises some pretty good horses,” he offered.

  “Idaho!” she exclaimed. “I can’t just take off and go to Idaho and look for a horse.”

  He swept one hand up and removed his cap, running the other hand through his thinning, graying hair. A grin split his thin lips.

  “Don’t you have a computer?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah, but I can’t imagine buying a horse off the internet. I’d probably end up with something that couldn’t walk.”

  “I said I know a guy up in Idaho. Clay Roberts is as good a horseman as there is. He takes pride in his stock and is a man of his word. If he told me a mule would grow to fit its ears, I’d swear by it.” Mac replaced his cap and patted the sorrel gelding he’d just finished. “As a matter of fact, I talked to him last night. He has a grullo filly that you need to check out. She’s bred right to show or to use as a cow horse, reining, or anything you’d want to do and Clay ain’t never had a foal drop at his place that wasn’t put together right.”

  Jordan shrugged. “He probably wants a fortune for her and I don’t know how I’d get a horse from Idaho to Florida.”

  Mac took a slip of paper out of his pocket and offered it to her. “Here’s his email address. Just tell him you’re a friend of mine and want to see pictures of the filly. It don’t cost a cent to look.”

  Hesitantly she took the piece of paper and pushed it in her pocket. “She must be pretty special for you to have gone to all this trouble.”

  He nodded. “If I wasn’t trying to talk a kid into going back to college, I’d be tempted to buy her myself.”

  Jordan turned and led Tempest to the small field that was his own private playground and slipped the halter off his head. He lowered his head and began cropping the grass at his feet while she pulled the gate shut and fastened it.

  “There aren’t many grullo horses on the show circuit. I bet she’d catch a judge’s eye.” She said as she walked back to where Mac stood. “I don’t guess it’ll hurt to look. How old is she?”

  “She’s a two year old. They have a girl staying with them that’s been playing with her, but they haven’t had a rider on her yet. She’d be a clean slate for you, a testament for your training.” He watched as she walked back into the barn and returned with another horse for him to trim.

  As the horse approached, his knowing eyes watched the placement of each hoof so he would know just what, if any, problems the animal might have.

  When he bent over and lifted the first hoof, he smiled silently. When he’d seen the pictures of the filly that Clay had sent him, the first thing he’d thought about was Jordan. With a horse like that, she could really make an impression in the world of horse training. She made any horse look good, but with that filly under her, the judges would really take notice.

  It was after dark before Jordan sat down at her computer and logged on to the internet. She entered her email and typed in a quick introduction to Clay Roberts and told him that Mac had been talking about the filly and when he had time, would he please send her a couple of pictures of the animal. She ended by inquiring how they could manage to ship a horse so far, should she decide to buy her.

  Bhrandii reminded her that he needed to go out and pulled her away from the computer for a few minutes and when she returned, she found a reply to her email. Opening it with skepticism, she was pleasantly surprised to find several pictures, one from each side and one each of front and back. Then there were some close up shots of her legs, of her face and of her hooves. Jordan loved what she saw. The email stated that she stood almost fifteen hands and weighed a fraction under a thousand pounds.

  When Jordan read the price of the animal, she swallowed hard. It was a lot of money for an untrained horse, but when she read the filly’s pedigree, she understood the price. If the American Quarter Horse Association had any royal bloodlines, they ran through this filly’s veins.

  She didn’t watch any television, but spent the evening pouring over her banking records to see if she could find the extra money, just in case she decided to take the gamble. She knew she could take the money from her investments, but preferred to leave that untouched.

  The next morning she called Mac and talked to him again. He assured her that Clay Roberts was a man she could trust. “Honey, if that
horse ain’t what he says she is, I’ll help you haul her back to Idaho and we’ll both beat the stuffing out of him.”

  She sighed deeply. “Well, I sure do like her, so now, I guess I’ve got to figure out how to get her here.”

  Jordan began to make arrangements to purchase the horse. She knew that Mac wouldn’t lead her wrong and if he trusted Clay Roberts then she could trust him too, but she was still nervous about buying a horse that she’d never seen.

  “I’ll just have to trust God to help me find a way to get her here.” She told Bhrandii. He wagged his long whip-like tail in complete agreement.

  Chapter Five

  Leaving the hospital was hard. He was leaving his entire past behind. He would never again ride off into the silence of the mountains where he had grown up. His grandfather’s small ranch now belonged to someone else and he would never stand at the door of the cabin again, while looking out at the mountains cloaked in the morning mist. He wouldn’t hear the distant bugling of elk as one of the herds migrated up to the high meadows for summer grazing. His memories were all he would have of the quiet trails that led to the secret places his grandfather had shared with him and Feather. He would never again camp in the hidden valley deep in those mountains where he’d taken his grandfather’s body for the traditional funeral the old man had requested, or hear the haunting song of the wolf echo through the night as the pack assembled for the hunt. A great sadness filled his heart. His life as Hank Silver Wolf was over and before him, he saw only emptiness.

  He lay perfectly still under the sheet as an orderly pushed the gurney out of the room and into the hallway. The halls were not nearly as bright as they were during the day, but he worried that the orderly might notice the slight rise and fall of the sheet draped over his entire body even though he breathed as shallowly as he could. This near perfect stillness was a gift from his grandfather. The old man had spent many hours, with the boy, showing and teaching the advantages of blending in with the wilderness. All wildlife learned to watch, listen and sniff. When the wind was still or from the wrong direction, they trusted their eyes and their ears. Wild animals never leave the shelter and safety of trees or shadows without a long careful search for movement of anything suspicious. Wolf had become a master at blending into the scenery. He had become so good at it elk, deer, birds and even a bear had walked within a few feet of him and had never known he was there. He had loved the years spent learning the old ways and his grandfather had loved sharing it all with him and his sister.

  The gurney was rolled to the back of a hearse and loaded into the vehicle none too gently. Underneath the sheet the still man was becoming alive with excitement. Soon he would be with Feather! He had missed his baby sister. They had developed a special bond over the years. Each was all the family the other had after Grandfather died, except for their mother and her family who had all just dropped out of their lives. When their father died in a car accident he was eight and Feather was only five and they lived for a short time in foster care. They didn’t understand why their mother had deserted them and they were lonely and afraid.

  As soon as he learned that his son was dead and there were two children that needed him, Grandfather had come for them.

  When the old man had arrived to claim his grandchildren, social services was glad to be able to take them off their books. The two children, though, were afraid of the old man neither had ever met. But it had taken only a couple of weeks for his kindness and love to win them both over and they walked eagerly into their new lives and learned to be proud of their Indian blood. Grandfather had spurned their white names and instead had started calling them Wolf and Feather.

  Grandfather’s small ranch was on the edge of the reservation next to the national forest that stretched back into the mountains forever and it was here that the old man had raised them. He made sure they went to school because he knew they needed to live in the world of the white man, but he wanted them to experience the life he had known as a boy. Weekends and breaks from school were spent packing into the mountains and living the natural life. He taught them to hunt and prepare food that grew around them, how to make their clothes from animal skins and plant fibers, how to track, and to respect all living things. It was during these adventures that Wolf learned to accept the special gift he had been born with.

  From his earliest memories, the boy had loved animals. When he learned how to express it, he had tried to explain to his mother that he could feel what the family dog was thinking. Not understanding, she had scolded him harshly. “I’m not having that Indian mumbo jumbo in my house! People will think you’re crazy!”

  After that, the boy was careful to hide the things he learned from animals and never shared knowledge of the gift with anyone. It was only in secret that he allowed his mind to touch the minds of animals, at least, until his grandfather discovered it.

  They were camping in their tepee deep in the mountains one summer when the old man noticed the boy sneaking food into a pouch. It wasn’t like Wolf to be sneaky. He said nothing but when he later realized the boy had slipped out of camp, he tracked him to a small hill about half a mile away. Using all his skills as a hunter, Grandfather crawled to a hidden vantage point and watched.

  The boy approached a den dug into the side of the hill and sat down next to it. He sat still and silent for only a moment when a fox crept out of the den and cautiously approached the youngster. Moving slowly, the boy opened the pouch and hand fed the scraps of food to the shy animal. When the food was gone, the two sat side by side in silence for almost an hour before the fox returned to the security of her den. As she slipped into the hole, the old man could see that she was thin and had a bad limp in one front leg. Then as quietly as he had come, the old man melted away and returned to camp.

  Later that night as the three humans sat next to the fire in front of the tepee, the old man began to tell stories of the old people. On this certain night, he talked about a courageous man he had known when he was only a child. The man was called Animal Talker, because it was said he could talk to animals. From the beginning of the story, the boy became totally absorbed in it. He listened intently as his grandfather spoke with respect and admiration of this man, Talker. He told how Talker always treated animals with honor and respect. One winter when the food supplies had run out and people were hungry, Talker had led some hunters to a place where he knew there would be deer. After the successful hunt, he had sung songs and danced to honor the sacrifice the deer had made to keep the people from starving.

  As the old man talked, the boy listened and as the summer wore on, and Wolf had continued to carry food to the fox, he was finally able to talk with his grandfather about the special gift he had learned to hide. The old man nodded with understanding when Wolf confided how his mother had reacted when he tried to tell her. “People are often afraid of what they don’t understand. Don’t hold it against your mother. She was not raised to accept such things. She only wanted to help you learn to live in her world. She loved you, in her own way.”

  “I’ve been feedin’ a fox that was almost killed by a bear. She’s almost well now.” the boy confessed. “The bear killed her mate.”

  Grandfather sat silently for some time. “The fox told you this?”

  The twelve year old boy shook his head negatively. “Not exactly. It’s more like she let me see it, in her head.”

  Again a lengthy silence bridged the time before Grandfather spoke. “In the old days, you would have been a holy man. A great holy man. There have never been many who have the gift that you do. Never use it for profit. Never take it for granted. It is a great gift, a wakon, sacred, gift. Always treat it as a blessing and treasure it.”

  The boy nodded. “I will always treat animals with respect and honor. I will value my gift, Tunkashila, Grandfather.”

  The grandfather smiled.

  As the hearse slowed to stop at the funeral home, the man remained unmoving. Truth be known, it was still pretty painful to move around, but he had
been walking for almost a week now. The gurney was unloaded and wheeled into the back door of the mortuary. There it was transferred to someone else and the driver who had driven the hearse to this location drove it away. In silence, the gurney was pushed down a hallway and into a room, then the sheet was pulled back and Wolf opened his eyes.

  Captain Ferguson smiled down at him. “Well, how are you feeling?”

  With the captain’s help, the man sat up slowly and slid his feet off the gurney. “I’m not sure. I don’t think I’m comfortable with bein’ dead, yet.”

  Another man stepped forward and held out his hand. “It’s good to see you, Wolf.”

  Wolf smiled. “Clay! It’s good to see you, too. Is Feather with ya?”

  “No. Captain Ferguson was afraid someone might recognize her. She stayed at the ranch with Sue.”

  Captain Ferguson handed Wolf a large manila envelope. “Here are papers that will provide you both with a past. I had this stuff done in Texas by a ranger I know down there. There is a complete history here for both you and Feather. It’s for a man named Daniel Cetan and his sister, Rebecca Cetan. That’s all I’ll know about you.”

  The two men clasped hands before Clay Roberts helped Daniel Cetan out through the front door of the mortuary and into an Expedition parked at the side of the building. Hank Silver Wolf was truly dead.

  Chapter Six

  For a few days, Frankie Lambert reveled in being able to walk more than a dozen steps without walking into bars. He, under his assumed name, and Ruby had a quick wedding and she was sure her wonderful new husband was the man of her dreams.

  Ruby’s father had left her reasonably wealthy when he passed away two years ago. As a teenager she had become the woman of the house after her mother ran off with another man. Ruby, an average looking woman now, was thirty-six years old and had never had a date. A female acquaintance, who, for a short period of time had rented the two rooms over Ruby’s garage, had talked to Ruby about prison pen pals. That woman, Candy, had corresponded with and married a man she met that way and the two of them had moved off to Washington state, leaving Ruby alone and lonely. That was when Ruby began to read ads in a magazine from people requesting letters from pen pals of the opposite sex. One in particular caught her interest. It was from a man interested in hearing from a woman who was looking for a long term relationship. It was an ad Frankie had placed in several magazines.