Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail (28 page)

“These smaller ones are great practice. Once you really get the hang of it, and if you still want to make a bigger one, then, yes, I’ll be happy to teach you,” said Grandmom, smiling. “Keep in mind that it takes months to finish one quilt, not like these little ones. These only take a few days.”

Shannon didn’t answer and was thinking of how difficult finishing the tiny quilts were. Maybe she would just stick with the small ones for now.

The phone rang and Grandmom answered it. “Hi, how are you enjoying Nevada?” Shannon jumped from the couch and ran to the phone, hopping up and down. Grandmom nodded as she spoke in the receiver. “Yes, she’s right here. It was so nice to speak with you, honey. Say hi to your mom for me. Here she is. Bye, bye.” She handed the phone to Shannon.

“Hi. Boy, am I glad to hear from you!” Shannon exclaimed as she walked out to the back porch. She sat down and hooked one of her legs over the arm of the porch swing and pushed off, rocking back and forth as Carrie began to tell her all about camp. “You would love it here. They’re teachin’ us how to communicate with horses through a kind of horse body language.”

“Like how?” asked Shannon.

“Like when they flatten their ears back it means they’re angry or afraid and when their ears move back and forth it means they’re unsure of something,” said Carrie.

“That’s cool, but why do you need to know horse language. I mean, it’s not like you’re getting a horse or anything.”

“Well, who knows? I’m thinking about it, but I haven’t asked my mom yet. Besides, they teach this stuff because we get to help train the foals,” Carrie explained.

“Just like Flannel, you’re actually gonna train a baby horse?” asked Shannon in disbelief.

“Not exactly. It’s not like that—it’s more like getting them to trust people. They have to learn to live differently than what they’re used to in the wild. Stuff like walking on a lead line, having their feet picked up, standing still while we groom them. You know, simple things.”

“Wow, do you get to ride them too?”

“They’re way too little yet. First they come here and grow a bit and then the Adoption Center finds homes for them. I think they go to their new homes around six months old,” replied Carrie.

“Where do they come from? I mean, how do you suddenly just get foals? Where are their mothers?” asked Shannon.

“Well, actually, they come from the wild horses that live near the Calico Mountains. Sometimes they lose their moms by accident and they need to be rescued and sometimes they end up here.”

“Wait! Did you say Calico Mountains?” gasped Shannon.

“Well, yeah, I know, it’s crazy. The mountains turn different shades depending on which way the sun hits and people call them the Calico Mountains. I freaked when I found out the name, Shannon. I am still having those dreams.”

“Oh, wow. Do you think you’re gonna get a Calico horse? Wow, I cannot believe you’re getting a horse. I’m so jealous!”

Carrie looked around to make sure no one could hear her. “Well, don’t say a word about it, Shan. I have to work on my mom first. She hasn’t found a job yet and we’re still staying with her friend. I can’t get one and keep it here, ya know.”

She told Shannon all about her dreams and how they each had calico patchwork in them. Shannon told Carrie she thought she was becoming a psychic and Carrie laughed hard. The girls continued talking and Shannon told Carrie all about the patchwork quilts she was working on and about the photos and the letter. The girls shared stories of Lizzie’s mean cousin and the sidewalk incident and Carrie told Shannon about Milla and her dilemma with Foot. They promised to stay in touch and finally said goodbye. Shannon continued to swing a bit and thought over the conversation. This was the first time she had heard Carrie sound happy. Horse training and art classes sounded exciting and Shannon laughed when she remembered Carrie’s reaction when she said, “I told you so.”

Although it felt great hanging out with her on the phone again, it made Shannon feel kinda empty after she hung up. She could hear Brian’s giggles and Grandmom’s laughter, but she really didn’t feel like going in just yet. It was a cloudy afternoon in July—a perfect day to spend rocking on a porch swing thinking about patchwork quilts, calico mountains, infants, and orphaned foals.

Chapter 46

Several weeks had passed since the outbreak at the Painted Ridge Wild Horse and Burro Adoption Center. The horses were examined daily and so far there had been no new cases of the illness. Ten horses had died, two of them pregnant mares. Each day the vets would make their rounds and write their reports. The center was still under quarantine and no horses would be moved in or out until they got a green light from the team of doctors.

It had been another long day and Devon picked up his hat and headed toward the door. “I’m taking off tomorrow, Brit, but I’ll check in with you in the morning. Goodnight,” he said.

“Okay. Say hi to Milla for me. I’ll bet she’ll be happy to see you.”

I doubt that, thought Devon, as he climbed into his truck. He drove slowly down the long graveled driveway and surveyed the horses. He wondered if he should reconsider taking off a day, and just then he saw a foal standing alone in the corner of a pen, reminding him he still needed to call Anne Burke. She had phoned a few times and he hadn’t returned her calls. No, he needed a day off. He couldn’t remember the last time he and Milla actually had a conversation. It seemed she was either silent or in tears and when she did speak, it was usually complaining about her stay with Mrs. Adams. She seemed to like camp, he thought, or did she? He couldn’t remember what she had said about it. Yep, he definitely needed a day off.

He arrived home to find a pile of mail on his doorstep. Oh, man, he thought. I haven’t even checked my mailbox in days. He went to check the overstuffed box and waved when he saw Fern skating by, but she quickly looked away. That’s odd, thought Devon. She’s usually very friendly. Maybe she had a fight with Milla. More drama, he thought—I’m not even gonna ask. He threw the pile of mail on the counter and poured himself a cold glass of lemonade. He sighed, looking around the house. He’d put off so many of his usual chores and the place was a mess. Well, I’ll get to it when I can, he thought. He looked at the clock and wondered when Milla would be home. She had been staying at Carrie’s the past few nights and wouldn’t be taking the camp shuttle home or would she…he couldn’t remember.

“I don’t want to go home,” Milla said to Carrie. “It seems like everything’s changed between my dad and me. It’s awful.”

“I know, I get it, believe me,” said Carrie. “I used to feel the same way when my parents were fighting. I stayed over at Shannon’s house a lot. But eventually you have to go back. I know, trust me…it really stinks.”

“I just don’t know how to get through to him. It’s like he doesn’t even hear me. He’s always frowning or just quiet and he’s so miserable. When Grandma was here, everything was so different, but now it’s…well, it’s, it’s like he wishes he were somewhere else,” said Milla.

Brenda hollered up the stairs. “Milla, your dad’s on the phone.” Milla shot Carrie a look of disappointment and slowly turned to get the phone. “Hi, Milla, what’s goin’ on?” Devon asked.

“Nothin’ much, Dad. Can I stay here a little longer?”

“No, I’m going to swing by and pick you up soon.”

“Can’t I just hang here? Mrs. Anderson already said it’s okay,” she begged.

“I’m taking the day off tomorrow and I figured you’d want to come home.”

“Not really,” she said meekly.

“What are you talking about? All your complaints about me not being home and now I tell you I’m taking off tomorrow and you don’t want to see me?” Devon was clearly confused. Milla didn’t reply, as she didn’t know how to tell her dad how hurt she felt.

“Look, this isn’t open for discussion. I have a few phone calls to make and then I’ll be on my way. See you in a few.”

His next call was to Anne Burke. “Hi, it’s Devon Spencer returning your call. How are the foals we dropped off?”

“They’re doing fine, Devon, but actually I was calling about Milla. Do you have a few minutes?” she asked.

“I’m all ears. How’s she doing in camp?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m not sure how to put it—she’s just not her usual self. She really loves working with the foals and I actually saw her smile a few days ago but something’s off with her. Have you noticed anything at home?” she asked.

Devon felt himself flush. He wasn’t expecting to talk about his daughter’s mood swings. How the heck was he supposed to notice anything different at home when he was dealing overtime with a crisis at his own facility? And lately, Milla hadn’t even
been
home. “Geez, Anne. I thought you were going to tell me she’d gotten into trouble or something like that. You know what’s been going on at the center, I’ve got my hands full and to be quite honest, I had to find other arrangements for her. We haven’t really seen much of each other.”

“Yeah, I understand, I’m not trying to pry; I’m just concerned about her. I know what you’re dealing with, believe me. I’m just calling to let you know what’s been going on here at camp. Her teachers say she’s really a talented artist but she’s almost invisible the way she’s keeping herself apart from the other kids.”

This made Devon sit up. It didn’t sound anything like Milla; she was outgoing and pretty darn feisty. She oozed confidence and this news rattled him. “She is a good artist, and I keep telling her that. I’m not sure about this sulking business, Anne. It doesn’t sound like her.”

“I wouldn’t call it sulking, Devon. Kids have a silent body language much the same as animals. Heck, you know all about horse language. She’s sending signals that she’s clearly unhappy and I just wanted to pass a heads-up to you, that’s all. Your mom was huge in this community and we miss her dearly. I can only imagine what it must be like for both of you.”

“Yeah, well, thanks, Anne. It’s been a rough year—the kid feels as if she lost two mothers, I guess. My mom raised her since my wife died six years ago.”

“Does she talk about it with you at all?” Anne asked.

Now Devon was in a hurry to get off the phone. This was getting too touchy-feely. Anne was clueless as to how hard it was to be a single parent, let alone talk about personal stuff with kids. “Listen, thanks for the call and all, but I have to run and pick her up now,” he said.

“Okay, Devon. Just remember—I meant what I said.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks, Anne. Keep me posted on those foals,” he said and hung up.

Anne stared at the phone, she heard his voice switch into business mode and she wasn’t sure if her call had made any difference. He has his own language as well, she thought. He was sending signals by his tone of voice to back off. Oh, well, I tried. She had seen too many confused kids come into camp. Some arrived with dark circles under their eyes, some acted out for attention, and some were simply silent. Most kids were happy as larks, but when something felt odd, she always reached out to their parents.

Milla got into the truck and clicked her seatbelt. Her dad didn’t move the truck and just stared at her. She looked sideways at him kind of nervously. This wasn’t like him at all. He smiled and reached over and tousled her hair. She cracked a grin and looked away.

“Come on, Mil. I see that smile,” he said teasingly. She ignored him and he poked her in the side, trying to tickle her.

“Who are you and where did you put my father?” she asked, frowning.

“Oh, so you’re gonna be a tough guy now? I just missed you, that’s all,” he said and turned the ignition key. “So, how’s camp?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“So how come you’re not working tomorrow?”

“Back to you…how’s camp?” Devon asked.

“I tell you every time I see you and you never listen. It’s fine, okay?” she replied in a huff.

“How’s camp?” he asked again, now laughing.

“You’re crazy,” she said, looking out the window. “I think those horse doctors should check you out while they’re at it.”

I have no idea what Anne is talking about, Devon thought. Milla sounded pretty normal.

“Sure, I’ll tell you how camp is. I’ve decided I’m old enough to have a horse and be responsible about it. That’s how camp is, Dad,” she said with a challenging tone in her voice.

“I like horses,” Devon replied matter-of-factly.

“Oh, Dad, are you teasing me? Are you really gonna let me get a horse?” She jumped up and down in excitement.

“What teasing? All I said was that I like horses,” he said, laughing.

Milla stiffened and turned away. “You’re a horrible, mean father and I’m not talking to you about anything anymore. Humph.” Devon ignored her outburst and kept driving. A horse, he thought. Just what he needed—another horse.

He looked at his daughter. She was pouting and staring out the window. “Lighten up, will ya? I think we both need some down time. What do you feel like doing tonight? You need to have a better plan than blurting out, ‘I want a horse, Dad—go get me one.’ If you’re so responsible, how come your room looks like a tornado hit it?” he asked.

“
Me?
” she shot back. “What about your mess? Have you seen the house lately, Dad?”

“Yeah, well, I guess you have me on that one. But, seriously, Mil. What can we do tonight? I need a break.”