Hope In Every Raindrop (3 page)

On her left was a faded white double-wide trailer with a long front porch. The roof was dark green, and matched the leaves of several tall trees that stood behind the house.

She put the car in park and pressed the ignition button adjacent to the steering wheel. The lights on the dash went off and she stepped out of the car.

Directly across from the house was a two-story barn. One of the oversized sliding doors was pulled open, but the sun cast a shadow that prevented Katie from seeing farther than a few feet into the barn.

She took several steps up the front porch. As Katie extended her hand to knock on the screen door, a man asked from the side of the porch, "May I help you?"

Startled, Katie pulled her hand back and cleared her throat, but before she spoke she was taken aback at the sheer size of the man standing there. Perhaps a few inches over six feet, his legs were like tree trunks tight against his jeans, and his forearms looked more like calves as he wrapped his hand around a large walking staff that stopped just past his shoulders. He had a neatly trimmed thin white beard and his hair was pulled back in a ponytail that hung barely above his shoulders. 

Every facet of him seemed imposing. Until he smiled.

His cheeks puffed with a light red hue and there was nothing but kindness in his eyes. It was like looking at a fitter version of Santa Claus.

"I’m looking for Doctor Anderson," she finally managed.

The stranger made his way around the porch railing and took the steps two at a time until he was standing right in front of her.

"Well, last time I checked that was still me," he said as he held out his hand. "But you can call me Doc. And you are..."

"Oh, excuse me. I'm Katie Price." As she extended her hand, her elbow brushed against the small spiral notepad poking from her purse.

"I was actually going to say reporter," Doc said. He hesitated. "But...a reporter wouldn't be out here in a sundress and designer boots. At least not a reporter who's done her homework. And you don't seem like a reporter, anyways."

He glanced back at her car parked on the dirt path. "And I don't believe you're here as a buyer, or prospective buyer anyways. For one, the pups are only six weeks old, and for two we haven't told anyone about them just yet. Not to mention one of them would likely ruin your nice car."

Katie was about to speak, but Doc stopped her by holding up his hand. "Wait, don't tell me."  He rubbed his thumb and index finger against his chin. "No, I think I was nearly right the first time. So, if not a reporter then...a writer?"

"How did you do that?"

"I apologize, it's an old habit of mine. I really should have seen it sooner." He motioned to the notepad sticking out of her purse, and then back to the car. "It was obvious that you're some type of writer, and last I checked reporters don't make enough money for fancy cars. Of course, neither do most writers. Unless they're very good writers, that is. So," Doc continued, "what brings a young writer all the way out here?"

Before Katie could respond, she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see a black and white piebald dog with shaggy hair trotting away from five puppies chasing furiously after her.

Doc laughed softly to himself. "She's tired of nursing."

Katie was still a bit confused until the dog was only a few steps from the porch. Up close, it was clear to see her stomach was loose and sagging, as if she’d been nursing for days on end.

Doc walked past Katie and down the steps. "Excuse me one moment?"

Katie nodded.

"Come on, Biscuit,” Doc said, tapping the dog lightly on the back of her neck. “I've got just the hiding spot for you."

Biscuit followed Doc around the side of the house. Katie was left alone on the porch with five wild puppies still running in her direction.

When they reached the steps, the pups looked up at her and began to whine. At first Katie didn't understand, then one of them put his paws on the bottom step and tried to make his way up. They were still too young to make it over the steps, which were a few inches higher than they were tall.

Katie walked down and sat on the bottom step.

Four of the puppies were black with a small white triangular marking on their chest and spots of white on their feet, but one of them was entirely black. They nuzzled against her legs, tracking little dirt prints over the toe of her leather boots. She reached down and picked the solid black one up and held it in front of her, one hand on each side of the puppy and her thumbs wrapped under his front legs.

Katie pulled him close to her and ran her fingers over his fuzzy body. The puppy looked up at her and wrinkled its nose slightly, sniffing at the air around him. 

In a higher-than-normal pitch Katie looked down at the dog and said, "What do you smell?"  She scratched his head and around his small ears, already pricked straight up. "I bet the smell of my clothes and perfume is all brand new to you, huh?"

As she spoke, the puppy suddenly started to scramble out of her lap at the same time the others scurried below the steps in front of her. 

"And where do you think you all are going?"

She knelt forward off the steps, adjusting her dress so her knees pressed into the grass. She was about to look down under the porch when she heard a low growl a few feet to her left. She hadn’t seen or heard a single thing except the puppies, but now a large black dog stood several yards away.

Katie drew in her breath quickly, but didn't move.

His head was huge relative to his body and was lowered, so it was even with his tail. His teeth were not bared, but he was definitely making some sort of growling noise as he stared directly at her. From her knees the dog was almost eye level. She noticed there was no collar around the dog’s neck, unlike Biscuit. And a defined strip of fur down the dog’s back bristled.

She wasn't sure if she should back slowly up the steps to the porch, make a run for her car, or just sit there on all fours and not move until Doc returned.

Before she could make a decision, a man appeared on the dirt and grass path several hundred feet behind the dog. With the sun at his back she could only see his silhouette, but he appeared to be holding something up to his mouth. From where she was it looked exactly like a person standing with a harmonica—but not quite a harmonica. Something else.

A high-pitched whistle lifted over the breeze and ran down towards her. The black dog growled once more, turned, and ran. His gait was smooth and effortless. With long fluid strides his back remained perfectly flat as he moved across the land. When Katie finally took her eyes off the dog and looked back towards where the man had been standing, she saw nothing. A few seconds later, the dog crested the horizon and both of them were gone.

Katie stood and brushed her knees off as Doc approached from the barn.

"Sorry about that," he said. "But I've got Biscuit a nice little hiding spot in one of the new runs. She should be safe for a few hours at least. So…you were in the middle of telling me why you're here."

"Well, I'm here to write."

"Ah, yes, a writer who likes to write. Quite ambitious of you,” he said with a slight grin as he walked back over to one of two empty rocking chairs and sat down. "May I ask how exactly you ended up here, though? I mean, there are so many places in the world to visit. I dare say Bishopville, South Carolina wasn’t at the top of your list. I would have guessed some place fancy like New York City or San Francisco.”

Katie didn't hesitate. She had thought about this question for a long time during her drive from California. Was what she was doing silly? Just because this was the way her father found his inspiration didn’t mean it would work for her. But around a thousand miles into this trip, she had remembered a story her father once told her.

"In 1937,” she began aloud, relating the story to Doc, “horse racing was one of the most popular sports in the United States. So popular, that to this day people could probably tell you stories about a famous leviathan of a horse named War Admiral. After winning the Triple Crown that year, War Admiral will always be remembered as one of the greatest race horses to live. 

"But something else happened in 1937 that almost nobody knows. Another horse, competing mostly in smaller races on the West Coast, actually took home more prize money that year than any other horse. Running in these small races, this horse began to stir hope in the hearts of Americans at a time when the Great Depression had hit hard and hope was scarce.

"A year later, the horse's owner traveled East demanding a match race between the overpowering War Admiral and the no-name filly from the West."

"You are talking about the horse called Seabiscuit, are you not?" Doc said.

"I am. But, my question to you is: in which town did the story of Seabiscuit begin?"

Doc's eyes lit with excitement as his grin stretched across his face. "I see your point very clearly, young lady.” 

“Small towns often have big stories,” she said.

"That was a lovely answer, but not to my question. I meant, how exactly did you end up
here
?"

Katie thought about it a moment and said, "I more or less just pointed to a place on the map and drove."

"Now that is an even better answer," he said.

As Doc rocked back in his chair, Katie noticed a small butterfly that floated softly around the faded porch rail until it found a spot to rest next to a deep knot in the wood. Katie looked back towards Doc. His eyes were also fixed on the yellow and black striped wings.

"Would it be intruding if I was to take a look around the place?" Katie asked. "I'd really love to just find a place to sit and maybe jot down a few notes before it gets dark. Maybe even see the rest of the dogs?"

Doc didn't respond. He was looking at Katie, but he didn’t seem to see her. After a brief moment, he nodded. “Well now, let me see. Today is Saturday, yesterday was Friday, and tomorrow is Sunday. Yep, looks like I’m free, Miss Hannah.”

Katie brushed a tendril of brown hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She blushed a little, thinking he'd forgotten her name already.

"You mean Katie?"

"Of course I meant Katie!" he laughed. 

He stood up and extended his arm like a father about to walk his daughter down the aisle. "I would like to think I could give you a proper tour of the place. That is, if you have the time."

"I have all the time in the world," she said.

But the truth was, she now had less than three weeks.

Chapter 5

“Well let me just check one thing inside and we’ll be on our way.”

“Actually, do you have some place I could change real quick?” Katie said. She held the fabric of her dress away from her skin and shrugged.

“I do, and that would probably be a good decision.”

Katie walked back to her car and pushed the suitcase in the backseat onto its side. She unzipped the main compartment and pulled out a pair of jeans that were sitting on top, and dug around until she found a dark green pullover.

Doc was still holding the screen door open when she walked back up the stairs. “Just to the left there, through the kitchen. I’ll be out here when you’re ready.”

“Thanks,” Katie said.

The bathroom felt tiny as Katie closed the door behind her. It was just a half bath with a small mirror over the sink. She wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but to her surprise it was clean. Actually, it was spotless.

She looked into the mirror. Her hair was all frizzy, her eyes had small bags under them, and her lips looked as dry as the deserts she’d driven through in Arizona.

Katie crossed both of her arms and lifted her dress over her head.
Why did I pack a dress?
She folded it up and set it on her purse. She turned the faucet on and lightly splashed some water over her face. Immediately she felt better.

She ran her hands through her hair and pulled it up into a ponytail, and ran some chap stick over her lips. After her jeans and sweater were on she looked back in the mirror.

For a moment she paused. Her smile faded and she just looked back at the girl in the mirror. This is crazy, she thought. She suddenly felt out of her element. How did her father ever do adventurous things like this?

Sam’s words came back to her.
You’re in the big leagues now.

Katie let out a deep breath, grabbed her dress, and shoved a few things back in her purse.

When she walked outside Doc was sitting back in his rocking chair. She walked over and tossed the dress in the front seat of the car, which slid off the shiny leather and onto the floor next to her sandals. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said with a smile.

It was midafternoon when Katie and Doc left. They had walked for what felt like hours, but the sun still hung high against the clouds. All that time spent sitting at her beach house in San Diego for the last six months was starting to show. Her feet hurt, her calves hurt…even her shoulders hurt from just carrying around her purse for so long.

Katie had tried to jot down notes as she followed behind Doc, but it proved to be too much. She was overwhelmed by the enormity of his property, and the nonstop information he had to offer. Instead, she just tried to take it all in.

Whenever you can’t write the story, become the story
. Or so her father used to say.

Doc’s property was just over one thousand acres. To put that into perspective, the whole town of Bishopville itself was only five square miles, or three thousand acres. Doc owned one-third of that.

He had divided the property into four sections, and he introduced each one as such: the barn, the junkyard, the farm, and the land.

First up was the barn, which was just a short stroll across the dirt path in front of the house.

“This is it,” he said with a smile, his cheeks rolling into little balls that forced his eyes to squint.

The stalls looked empty except for bits of hay scattered about. Several harnesses, leashes, and other miscellaneous ropes and cords hung from the wall. Just inside the doors was a wooden bench with several tool boxes arranged in a neat row. It was probably the cleanest barn Katie had ever seen. Okay, it was the only barn she had ever seen.