Unbridled Dreams (43 page)
Apparently God had spent all His miracles on other supplicants that week. The nurse Dr. Sheridan contacted wasn’t available. In fact, the
five
contacts he made about help for Willa weren’t available. When, by Saturday, Otto had regained the use of his arm and proven his ability to walk—albeit unsteadily—Willa insisted she take him home. She had cleaned the entire main floor of the house, she’d restocked the pantry, and she told Dr. Sheridan she was tired of sleeping on a cot in the infirmary and tired of having to make a special trip every day to water Otto’s trees. “He may not be talking, but he can make his needs known,” Willa said. “There’s no reason he shouldn’t go home.”
Otto nodded agreement and motioned for a tablet upon which he wrote, shakily,
Let me go.
“All right, Otto,” the doctor said. “But you see to it you do everything you possibly can for yourself. This is a wonderful woman you have here, and she shouldn’t be treated like a servant.”
Otto’s face turned red at the scolding, whether from embarrassment or anger, Willa couldn’t tell. He reached for the cane Dr. Sheridan had provided earlier and, standing erect, wobbled for the door. His left foot dragged.
“See here, Otto,” the doctor said. “I’m to go get Mr. Knox when you’re ready to go. He’s going to help Mrs. Friedrich push you home in this chair.” He pointed to the wheelchair he’d rolled out earlier.
“It’s blistering hot out there. You don’t want to walk. Sit down now. It’s the best way.”
Otto grunted and kept walking. At the front door, he rattled the knob with his nearly useless left hand. When he couldn’t work it out, he let go of his cane to use his right hand, lost his balance, and would have fallen if Willa hadn’t been there to steady him.
“You don’t seem to believe me, Otto,” the doctor said. “If you don’t sit in this chair and let Mr. Knox wheel you home and help you inside, I won’t let you go.”
“Please,” Willa said. She put her hand on his arm. “It’s just this once. Everyone will be delighted to see that you’re well enough to leave the infirmary. And the next time they see you, you’ll be walking on your own power. And it’s much more dignified than having Mr. Knox and Dr. Sheridan lift you into the buggy. Or into the back of a wagon. Don’t you think?”
Otto closed his eyes for a moment. Then, with a grunt and a shrug, he sat down in the wheelchair.
Everything would have been fine, if only Cy Matthews would be reasonable. “He treats me like I’m two years old,” Belle said one night when she and Shep took a walk. “At the rate we’re going, there’s no chance Blaze will even be ready for the parade in October, let alone Madison Square Garden.” She gestured as they walked, venting her frustrations. “I think I should talk to Mr. Cody.”
“Bill Cody doesn’t have time to talk over your disagreement with Cy,” Shep said. “He’s deep into plans for the Garden performances. Figuring out how to create indoor cyclones and prairie fires is more important right now than whether or not one cowgirl is happy with Cy Matthews.”
“So what are you saying I should do?”
“Just settle in and do the job, Belle. Be happy with the way things are for a while. You wanted an audition and you got it. You wanted a job and you got that. You wanted to be a regular part of the performances and you are. You wanted Blaze and you’ve got her. You’re already riding her and she hasn’t even tried to buck you off. Not only that, you’ve got an expert—and I do mean an
expert
—advising you. So train your horse. Do your chores. Perform as expected. Your life is good, Belle. Be thankful.”
“I
am
thankful,” Belle said. “But I’d be
really
thankful if you’d admit that maybe Cy Matthews is wrong, and I’m right about Blaze.”
Shep stopped in midstride. Looking down at her he said, “Honey, I’m going to tell you something now, and it’s going to make you mad. But it’s for your own good.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Really.” He put his hand on her shoulder.
“You’ve got more guts than brains if you think you know more than Cy Matthews about training that horse.”
Belle glared at him for a moment. When he didn’t back down, she turned around and walked off. She didn’t know what made her more angry—what Shep had said or the fact that he let her go.
“That’s good for today,” Cy said the following Sunday evening. It had been the shortest session yet.
“Can’t I at least take her over to the arena and walk her around in it? There’s no one in the stands. She trusts me.”
“She trusts you in this corral,” Cy said. “We’ve yet to see what she’ll do outside of it. And we’re gonna keep it that way until the season closes at the end of the month. Once the company’s left on its fall tour and things are quiet around here, I’ll start introducing her to new things. And please don’t argue with me. I’m gettin’ tired of it.”
“I’m not arguing,” Belle said as she slid out of the saddle and to the ground. “I just don’t understand how I’m ever going to have her ready for a parade in October when I haven’t so much as ridden her outside this corral yet.”
“Been meanin’ to talk to you about that,” Cy said. “You see to Blaze and then meet me yonder by the arena curtain. I’ve got to talk to Grady Clemmons about somethin’. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Blaze snuffled Belle’s shoulder. She turned around and combed her fingers through the mare’s dark mane. “He doesn’t know you like I do. Don’t let it bother you. We’ll figure something out.”
A few minutes later Belle had unsaddled Blaze, put her back in the stall next to Diamond, and gone to find Cy.
“I think we both need to face facts, Belle,” the older man said. He turned aside and sent a stream of tobacco juice into the dirt. “I’m just as disappointed about it as you are, but that mare just doesn’t have the temperament to be a parade horse.
Or
a trick horse. Now, before you say anything, you let me finish. It ain’t your fault. None of it. You were right about her responding to you and you were right about her needing a gentle hand and being a smooth ride. And if she was stabled back in Nebraska there’d be no better saddle horse in the county. But she’s got a streak of attitude about her and there’s no amount of training in the world that’s gonna change that. Blaze was just never meant to
be
what we’re asking of her. And it’d be cruel to continue to expect it of her.” He spat again.
“But you just said you’d work on gentling her more after we close down.”
“Sure I did,” Cy said. “She’s far from finished, even as a saddle horse. But when she
is
finished, she ought to be shipped home. Your daddy can collect her, and you’ll have yourself a nice horse to ride whenever you’re back there.” His voice gentled. “Now, I know you’re disappointed. But trust me. It’s best for her and best for you. You can ride Diamond in the parade and I’ll talk to Bill and keep my eye out for another arena horse to train for when Diamond needs to retire.”
Belle made her way back to Blaze’s stall. The mare walked over and nibbled her shirt, looking for sugar. “He’s wrong,” Belle whispered. “He’s wrong about you.”
It was late that night when Belle slipped out of her tent and made her way back to the stables. All Blaze needed was a chance. They couldn’t give up on her. While Belle was willing to concede that a Manhattan parade might be a stretch, she was still convinced that if Blaze were only familiar enough with the arena, if she saw it as little more than a larger corral, where she was secure and where Belle was always in charge, the mare could still prove to be a spectacular trick horse. Enough time had surely passed for her to have forgotten any associations between the arena and bucking. And besides that, Cy hadn’t seen Blaze bow. He hadn’t seen her raise one hoof to “shake.”
Belle was waiting to surprise people with that part of the act. They’d only practiced on nights like this, when everyone else was asleep or disinterested in whatever Liberty Belle was up to over there in the corral with her horse. But if she didn’t do something quick, there would never
be
an act for Blaze. As for having a nice saddle mare for when she was at home, Cy had to know what Momma had paid for Blaze. Didn’t he realize Belle couldn’t just give up like this? Momma would never understand.
At the stables, Belle slid on a hackamore and mounted up bareback. Slowly she walked Blaze across the moonlit grounds, letting the mare take her time. The moonlit tents were the first thing that made her start. Belle patiently urged her forward until Blaze snuffled at a canvas corner, realized it was nothing to fear, and walked on. The fake boulders just inside the arena cast eerie shadows that were a problem for a minute, as well. But again, with Belle’s gentle encouragement, Blaze finally walked past them.
“This is it, girl,” Belle said. “We’re gonna spend a lot of time in here together. And you won’t be a bucking bronc ever again. It’ll be noisy. But you won’t be afraid because I’ll be here and I’d never put you in danger. You can trust me. You know that, don’t you?” She nudged the mare forward again, and as they walked the perimeter, Belle kept talking. Occasionally the mare would snort and dance sideways, but Belle stayed calm and was always able to settle her. Her heart soared. It was working. Blaze might not be a parade horse, but she would learn to be an arena horse.
And then, as they were leaving the arena, an owl swooped down out of the stands and lighted on one of the false rocks. Blaze snorted, shied, and began to buck. In seconds, Belle was sailing through the air. She landed with a grunt and watched, helpless, as Blaze hurdled over one boulder, stumbled, crashed through the backdrop, and disappeared.
Scrambling to her feet, Belle charged after the horse. Relief flooded through her when she realized the mare had only run back to the corral where they’d been training for weeks. She was waiting at the gate, her sides heaving, her coat flecked with sweat. She seemed to sigh with relief when Belle grasped the hackamore and led her toward the stables. That was when Belle noticed the limp.
B
E MERCIFUL, JUST AS YOUR
F
ATHER IS MERCIFUL
.
Luke 6:36
NASB
