Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail (29 page)

She answered in a small voice. “Well, I don’t know because I’m not used to you being so nice to me.” Devon swallowed a lump in his throat and said nothing. It was time to listen. Maybe Anne was right. Maybe Milla was sending out signals and he had been ignoring them, hoping it would just work itself out. Should he call a counselor? No, who had time for counselors? Plenty of kids had home lives much worse than Milla and they were doing just fine. No, he wasn’t going to bother with nosey counselors butting into his business. He would just have to figure this out on his own.

“Dad,” Milla said softly, “can we just kinda hang out together tonight? I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to be with you in my own home, and I just want to sleep in my own bed.”

He said nothing and continued driving. She added, “I’ve missed you, Dad, and I guess I really missed us. The us we used to be.”

Devon looked over at his daughter, who was wiping away tears, and he rubbed his face. He was never good with crying women, let alone kids. He was tired and just wanted to not think of anything. He just wanted to go home and forget about everything. “I missed you too, Mil, and I guess I missed ‘us’ too.” He reached over and patted her on her arm.

They pulled into the driveway and sat in the truck staring out at the Calico Mountains. The sunset created a beautiful patchwork of gold, pink, and lavender. A few birds circled in the distance and a band of wild mustangs galloped by, kicking up a cloud of dust. Devon thought of his mom and all she had taught him. Her words came floating back to him now.
Milla’s special, just like you. Help her to realize it. Treat her with respect and she’ll always look up to you. Help her spread her wings and soar, Devon, just like you.

He turned toward Milla, who was looking out at the mountains, her attention on the horses. Her eyes seemed to come alive. He studied the highlights that sparkled on her hair. She seemed to be glowing.

“You’re glowing,” he said.

“Huh?”

“You just look so beautiful, Mil. You really are beautiful and I think the world of you.” She leaned closer and laid her head on his shoulder.

“I’m not sure if you need glasses or if the Calico Mountains have cast a spell on you, Dad, but I love you, too.”

Devon spent the rest of the night determined to connect with his daughter. Anne said something about people language being like horse language. The first step in horse communication was watching and observing. Well, that should be easy enough, he thought. “Let’s have hamburgers for dinner,” he said. Milla wrinkled her nose.

“How about chicken on the grill?” he asked. Milla looked at her sneakers.

“How about we forget cooking and we have sandwiches instead?” he asked. She looked up and smiled.

Maybe this kid communication thing wasn’t so hard after all, he thought, as he listened to his daughter humming while she set the table. Now all he had to do was figure out a way to harness her tears.

Chapter 47

Dawn seemed to come earlier recently or was it that she was just having a few restless nights? Brenda was still not quite awake so she decided to meditate. This was the perfect time of the day as the world was still asleep. She began her meditation exactly the same each day, surrounding herself in a protective bubble of loving words.

To my highest guides and helpers second to none

Bless me and keep me safe at this time that I sit

Knowing that all that is said, done and heard, felt or sensed in any way is with absolute love as I blend myself with my consciousness

I wish at this time to be at one with my spirit

She saw some soft green flickering lights and moved into a quiet restful state of calm, but she was not asleep. Fifteen minutes later her eyes opened and she was completely alert. I have to call my mom, she thought. The thought came to her very strongly through her meditation—“Call your mom.” Okay, okay, she replied to herself, so I’ll her call already. Just what I need—more advice about my marriage.

Brenda stretched and got out of bed. Today was going to be a good day. She could just sense it. A few minutes later she heard Carrie’s footsteps creaking upstairs; and the thump-thumping of a tail hitting the wall as soon as Flannel came down the steps. Brenda patted the collie and went to make coffee.

She was just opening the cupboard when she noticed something hanging off one of the drawers. Another one? she thought, picking up the swatch of fabric. She had forgotten all about them and placed it on the table and continued to fill the pot with water.

“Mornin’,” Carrie mumbled as she stretched and reached for Flannel’s leash. Flannel was running in circles at the back door. Carrie was just about to open the door when something pink caught her eye. She stopped and looked more closely. “Okay, mom, what is going on with these calico swatches? Is this your idea of a joke or something?” The irritated dog then jumped up, almost knocking Carrie over. “Alright, alright, I’m coming,” she said, clipping on the leash and heading out the door.

Hmm, thought Brenda, she obviously she thinks I put that there, but if I didn’t and she didn’t, then who did?

Brenda opened her dresser drawer and retrieved the small pile of fabric squares she had collected over the weeks. She examined them closely. Yep, they’re all pretty much the same; different colors, but the same exact size and type of fabric. She went to show Carrie when she came back in the house.

“First off, no, it’s not a joke. I’ve been finding these things all over the bungalow and I forgot to ask you about them. I thought you were making something up in the little craft room and had dropped them,” Brenda said, sipping her coffee.

“What do you mean you’ve been finding them everywhere, Mom? Where are they coming from? I sure didn’t put them there.” Carrie filled a bowl with cereal. “Hey, come to think of it, I saw one of those hanging off a picture frame the first day we got here. I thought you told Sam about my dreams and…well, I got angry. I thought it was a stupid joke or something.”

“I haven’t said a word to anyone about your dreams. Regardless, Sam wouldn’t have done something like that anyway.”

“If we didn’t put them here, who did?” asked the girl, looking at the collie. Flannel was munching on her breakfast and stopped in mid-munch to look up.

“I hardly think the dog did it,” laughed Brenda.

“Yeah, well, maybe Sam is leaving them around for us to find, but why?” asked Carrie.

Brenda reached for the phone and dialed. “Morning, Sam. You have a minute? Good, can you stop in for a cup of coffee? Okay, great. See you in a few.”

“Tap, tap” came a sound on the door and Flannel trotted over to sniff the new arrival. “Come on in,” Brenda said, pouring a cup of coffee for her friend.

“Morning, Carrie,” Sam said, pulling out a chair. “What have you got…oh no! Not you, too?” She picked up the tiny squares of fabric.

“You know about these?” Brenda asked. “Where on earth are they coming from, Sam?”

“Beats me. This mystery has us
all
baffled. They started showing up a few months ago all over the B&B and Kelly even had them appearing out at her ranch,” said Sam, shaking her head.

“You’re saying these things are just popping out of thin air and nobody knows where they’re coming from?” asked Brenda. Carrie was looking at the squares of fabric more closely. She sent her mom an odd questioning look and Brenda shrugged.

“What?” asked Sam. “Why the looks?”

“I’ve sort of been having dreams about…um, calico-covered landscapes,” Carrie explained.

Sam looked at Carrie and Brenda, who seemed reluctant to talk about the dreams. “Well, are you gonna tell me? What kind of dreams?” she asked as she leaned back in her chair.

“I’ll go get my journal,” said the girl.

Carrie read aloud all of her dreams about the calico fabric. She read them in order, starting with the first. Each dream began exactly the same way with light shimmering over water. She recounted the sensation of flying over rolling hills of calico fabric and how it became covered in a dark, thick, oozing black goo. She told of the second dream that was almost identical to the first. The exhilaration of flying over the calico fabric hills that became withered brown crops ripped open by a black liquid substance bursting through the bleak vegetation. The women exchanged glances. Sam shivered and hugged herself.

“This is amazing, Carrie,” she said.

“There’s more,” the girl replied.

“More calico dreams?” Brenda asked. “You never told me there were more!”

Carrie continued reading: “I had another dream of rolling hills of fabric. It started like the others with shimmering lights flickering on dark water. Next, I was looking down at the patterned lands that were made of patches of different colors. I felt as if I were flying as I soared overhead. The hills had valleys and I dipped down into them as I looked all around me at the many colors of blue, pink, green, lavender, and gold. Then a black misty fog covered the hills and all went dark. The darkness slowly became un-foggy as if the sun was beginning to rise. Black hills appeared and standing on the top were three horses. Each horse was pawing the ground and I heard them snorting as they swished their tails. They were real horses but they were covered in patches of fabric. As I looked closely I could see that they were each made of the same swatches I had seen on the hills. Three beautiful horses covered in calico fabric. And then I woke.”

“I can’t believe this,” said Sam, “What can this all mean?”

“…And I have one more,” Carrie continued. “I haven’t said anything because it feels like a big mystery unfolding. I’ve never dreamed anything like these before.” She turned a few pages and read the final entry. It was another dream of flying over rolling hills made of patchwork fabric that opened with a pool of water and dancing lights. A colorful landscape suddenly turning to blackness. She told of the blinking white lights that seemed to trace and outline a structure.

She looked up to see her mom and Sam sitting on the edge of their seats. “Keep reading, keep reading!” they both shouted. Carrie continued: “The lights began speeding around and around, drawing a white outline of a city skyline. It was glowing neon against the black background like really fast tracer lights and then everything faded.” She shut the journal and picked up a swatch of fabric.

“Wow, that might be the skyline of Reno,” Sam said.

“I’m in shock,” said Brenda, pacing around the kitchen. “What is going on here? My daughter was dreaming about fabric long before she knew anything about your Calico Mountains.”

“It’s not just the mountains,” said Sam, “She dreamed of three horses made of calico fabric standing on a hill. It almost seems like a message about the Calico horses that live in the area. Remember the group of people that helped you search for Flannel when she was missing? There are lots of groups like them trying to raise awareness about the plight of the wild mustangs being rounded up.”

“But what does that have to do with the Calico horses?” asked Carrie. “Lots of horses come to Mrs. Burke’s and they’re not only from the Calico Mountains.”

“True,” said Sam, “but a while back there was a round-up of the Calico horses that caught the media’s attention. Many horses died in that round-up and the advocacy groups are fighting for the preservation of those particular mustangs.”

“So, is that what Devon does for a living—round up Calico horses?” asked Brenda.

“Not exactly. He doesn’t gather horses, he just takes care of them once they’re removed from the range.”

“This is all making my head spin,” Brenda said. “What if Carrie is really tuning into something through her dreams? Sometimes when I meditate I get strong messages; some people call it your sixth sense. It’s a heightened awareness of a connection to your own Spirit or consciousness.”

“You mean like a wacko palm reader or crazy person?” protested Carrie as she tossed the calico fabric on the table. “Geez! I’m not one of those, Mom.”

“I’m not saying you are a wacko. All people are born with the ability to tune into their inner voice. Some call it their conscience; some people think it’s their guardian angel. I think you are a very normal child who is able to connect with the spirit of horses.”

“Wow,” said Sam, “I’ve been meditating for years and I’ve had some amazing experiences, but I never talked to horses. What an extraordinary gift.”

“A gift? It feels like I’m having a buncha weird dreams, although I love the flying part,” Carrie said. “We learned all about talking to horses at camp, but not in dreams. It’s more like understanding their language, just like understanding Flannel, although some of the kids told me that Leah is a horse whisperer. They say she can talk to horses with her thoughts. I kinda do that with Flannel all the time.”

Sam perked up her ears. She too had felt she’d been communicating with Max for years; maybe she was a cat whisperer. Was there such a thing? Could people really talk to animals with their thoughts?

“Have you tried meditating about any of this?” asked Brenda.

“
Come on, Mom.
Get real. You taught me how to meditate and I know you and your friends say it’s great and all, but I’m just a kid. I tried doing it but I can’t sit still and I get bored.”

“I know. But now that we’re seeing connections between your dreams and our new surroundings, it just seems like they’re all clues to something. Meditation can sometimes clear up the clutter in our minds and let us use our sixth sense.”