Mountain Storm Survival
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Cathy McDavid
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Chapter One
A high-pitched whinny pierced the air, blood chilling in its fury and terror. Something had upset Goliath, Still Water Ranch’s prize palomino stallion. A loud crack followed, then another—steel horseshoes against wood fencing. When the horse got like this, property damage was the least of Rand Walkins’s concerns. Someone could get injured. Badly.
He tossed a fifty-pound bale of hay from the stack onto the flatbed trailer parked beside the feed barn. “Wait here,” he instructed his young helper, a sixth grader attending the Youth Wrangler Camp.
“What was that?” the boy asked, his baggy basketball shorts and athletic shoes out of place on the forty-acre horse ranch.
Rand ignored the question. Instead, he half jogged, half hobbled across the long open stretch of hard ground to the paddock where Goliath had been turned out for the day. With each step, pain seized his damaged legs, but he kept going.
The scene that greeted him had him clamping his teeth together in frustration. Two girls, campers the same age as his young helper, were with Goliath. The brown-haired one straddled the fence. Her companion, taller and skinny enough to get lost behind a fence post, was in the paddock. Ignoring Goliath’s fit of rage and the potential danger she was in, she approached the stallion with raised arms in what Rand guessed was an attempt to pet him.
“Easy, boy,” she cooed. “It’s okay.”
Rand slowed to a stop. Sweat soaked his shirt collar, and his lungs labored to draw sufficient air. Not from exertion but the cramps that attacked his legs with their razor-sharp claws.
“Get out of there,” he hollered, his voice choppy.
Both girls turned to face him, their expressions startled at first, then defiant in the way kids doubled down when caught doing something wrong.
“I’m not hurtin’ him,” the skinny girl said.
“That’s not the problem. He’s going to hurt you.” Rand approached the paddock gate, each step an agony. He hated appearing weak, so he forced himself not to limp. “Now back up slowly. Then walk, not run, to the gate.”
She raised her chin.
“Do it, or I’m sending you home today. You know the rules.” He fired a stern look at her friend on the fence. This one showed some sense and immediately scampered down.
Goliath stomped his heavy foot, stirring up a small cloud of dust. By this time, a crowd had gathered that included more of the Youth Wrangler Camp members, old Bill Nault, who everyone called Grandpa Billy and Ansel Laurent, owner of Still Water Ranch. A pair of black-and-white border collies sat at Ansel’s heels, their tongues lolling and their wagging tails sweeping the ground.
Everyone, dogs included, watched the goings-on with interest. Ansel frowned. Grandpa Billy, however, wore the patient look of someone who’d seen this before and wasn’t terribly worried.
Rand slid the latch and opened the gate just wide enough to slip inside the paddock. Goliath eyed the intruders in his domain and stomped his foot again. A foot that had felled grown men and could easily launch a hundred-pound preteen into orbit.
“Get a move on,” Ansel called to the girl. “Rest assured, you don’t want me to be the one coming in there after you.”
“Okay, okay.” She inched toward the gate, her back to the paddock fence.
When she got within arm’s length, Rand grabbed hold of her and dragged her the remaining distance.
“Hey,” she yelled when he propelled her through the gate. “Quit it.”
Lord, grant me patience and understanding, he silently prayed and hurried out after her, shutting the gate behind him.
Goliath whinnied again, this time in triumph. Rearing on his hind legs, he pawed the air before dropping to the ground. The early afternoon sun gleamed off his golden hide as he pranced in circles, head held high, mane and tail floating on the breeze. He was a magnificent sight and king of all he surveyed.
Rand envied the horse’s athleticism. He’d once been like that. Strong and powerful with legs that could carry him for miles. But that was another lifetime. Before the accident.
“Cool,” said one of the boys. Given the way his gaze followed Goliath, he was referring to the horse and not the girls’ antics.
Good. Hopefully, he wasn’t a troublemaker like these two.
Ansel believed God had called on him to help underprivileged youths by hosting a twice-yearly camp. Most of the sixth-graders who attended had never seen a horse up close, much less ridden one. They were required to perform chores, attend chapel and Bible study, take part in group sessions and obey the rules. In exchange, they got to enjoy the many fun activities.
The majority of kids left with a confidence and self-esteem they hadn’t previously possessed, and a few with a desire to continue attending church. If the camp made a difference in even one kid’s life, turned them away from the wrong path, Ansel considered it a success.
“Get to the kitchen,” the ranch owner told the girls. “You’re both on cleanup duty for the rest of the day.”
“Cleanup duty? Not fair,” the taller one protested. “We didn’t do anything—”
“Stop right there,” he said. “You used up your one and only strike when you climbed in that paddock. If you want to stay, I suggest you toe the line.” He pointed in the direction of the ranch house, a good quarter mile up the dirt road. “I’ll call ahead and let Mrs. Sciacca know you’re on your way.”
“It’s hot,” she complained.
And humid. Arizona’s monsoon season had arrived early to the Superstition Mountains, appearing in late June rather than July. Still Water Ranch sat at the base of the mountains and bordered federal land. Flash floods from runoffs were problematic during monsoon season, stranding area residents as well as causing significant destruction to land and homes.
“No hotter than it was in the paddock when you were pestering poor Goliath,” Ansel told the girls.
The taller one huffed in annoyance. She clasped her friend’s hand, and together they trudged off toward the house.
Maybe they’d think about the wisdom of their choices during the short walk. That was Ansel’s plan, Rand knew, though it may not work with the tall girl. She seemed intent on testing boundaries.
Rand had been a little like her as a teenager, thinking he was invincible and smarter than everyone around him. Then he’d been humbled. Nothing like hearing a doctor’s grim prognosis to change a person’s attitude. Rand had been angry at first. Then, grateful when he took that first unaided step. With it, he welcomed God into his life, knowing without a doubt it was only because of His grace that Rand recovered enough to lead a fulfilling life.
Mostly. He’d never compete on the rodeo circuit again. Never ride a bull or a bronc or wrestle calves. Never win the world championship title that had been his dream. But he could hold down a job and walk into church every Sunday. Dance with his mother at his sister’s wedding. That was something. A big something.
“Everybody, back to work,” Ansel said and motioned with his hand.
The dogs jumped up and, for no reason other than they were young and full of energy, began to play fight with each other. The camp members wandered off to resume cleaning stalls in the mare barn or packing for the overnight trail ride leaving in the morning.
Grandpa Billy chuckled to himself. “Gonna have your hands full with those two on the ride tomorrow.”
“Don’t remind me.” Rand shook his head. His breathing had returned to normal as the pain in his legs receded. Though, by tonight, he’d be paying the price for his little jaunt and need an extra round of PT exercises.
“Speaking of which,” Ansel said. “Can you spare a few minutes, Rand?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“I’ll check on the farrier. He should be about finished shoeing those horses.” Grandpa Billy excused himself and, whistling for the dogs, headed toward the corral housing the ranch’s working horses. It was separated from Goliath’s private residence by a state-of-the-art mare barn and a stable with two-dozen prime cutting horses in various stages of training.
Ansel tilted his head. “Walk with me.” As he and Rand strolled toward the ranch office, Ansel phoned the cook and told her the girls were on their way there and why. When he finished, he disconnected and addressed Rand. “I have news.”
“I’m hoping you hired a new hand.”
“I did.”
“Glad to hear.” Otherwise, they’d be shorthanded on the trail ride. These kids were inexperienced, and they’d need at least one wrangler for every three of them.
Ansel stroked his salt-and-pepper beard, a habit when he was weighing a decision or carefully choosing his words. “She’s arriving shortly.”
“She?” Rand asked.
“Don’t be looking like that. We’ve had some capable women wranglers here at Still Water. One who taught you a thing or two when you first hired on, as I recall.”
“That’s true.”
“This one’s experienced. Comes highly recommended. And—” Ansel paused “—she needs a break.”
Of course she did. That was Ansel’s way. Hadn’t he given Rand a break when he’d needed one?
“I believe there’s a reason she was led here.”
Rand smiled. “That can be said for most of us.”
“She’s special, though. Different. I want you to get along with her. It’s important. To her, and I think it might be important to you, too.”
“Why wouldn’t I get along with her?”
Ansel stroked his beard again. “She’s someone from your past.”
Rand searched his memory and came up blank. He got along well with everyone, including the few women he’d dated through the years. They’d all parted on civil, if not good, terms.
“You say from my past like she and I have bad blood.”
“You know I’m not one to interfere in your life,” Ansel said. “Advise you or mentor you, sure. But how you live yours is your choice. When I spoke to this gal and heard her story, I was genuinely moved. This is a chance for you to fully heal and find peace. You need that, even if you won’t admit it.”
Rand was getting frustrated. “I’ve healed, Ansel.”
“Have you?”
Rand’s answer was cut short by the sound of tires crunching on the dirt road; the two of them turned to see a dented and rust-eaten pickup heading straight for them. The driver glanced their way and then parked in front of the ranch office. The door creaked as it opened and a cowgirl hopped out, her jeans worn, her hat weathered, her boots scruffy and her thick brown hair falling to midback.
Recognition hit Rand like the shock from a live wire. No, not her!
She nodded in greeting and walked toward them, shoulders squared in an obvious brave front but trepidation lighting her eyes. Rand knew they were a deep hazel. He’d never forget the day, over ten years ago, when she’d flashed those eyes at him and smiled beguilingly.
Anger raged inside him, growing until it filled his chest and strangled his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and, in his mind, relived the fall in nightmarish detail. He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.
“Easy, son,” Ansel said, attempting to calm Rand as he had many times before. “You’re all right.”
No, he wasn’t. “Anybody else but her, boss.”
That was a lie. Anybody but her and her three accomplices.
Ansel was right. Rand hadn’t healed. Try as he might, hard as he prayed, he’d never been able to forgive them for what they’d done, and he never would.
Kate Spencer had prayed daily for an opportunity to apologize to Rand for her part in the tragedy that nearly cost him the ability to walk. Now that the moment was here, she wanted only to turn tail and flee.
He hated her. It shone in the rigid set of his jaw and the sparks shooting from his eyes. All right, maybe hate was too strong a word. But he wished her gone from Still Water Ranch, and was clearly in no mood for an apology.
Ansel had been wrong. Why had she pleaded her case to him? She shouldn’t have taken the job he offered. Shouldn’t have put her hope for absolution above Rand’s need for a life free from emotional strife caused by her presence.
She stopped and waited, unsure of what to do next.
“Give her a chance, son,” Ansel said. He put his hand on Rand’s shoulder. “This is hard for her, too.”
Rand snorted. With disgust? Disbelief? Anger?
“She’s paid the price for what she did, and then some,” Ansel added.
Almost six years in prison. Her original sentence had been twenty-two months, but Kate had made mistakes. Stupid mistakes that had added to her sentence.
“It’s time for both of you to put the past behind you,” Ansel said. “You can’t change what happened. You can only grow from it.”
Rand stiffened.
Kate swallowed. Neither of them had yet to speak.
He’d grown taller since high school. Six feet, give or take. The top half of him had filled out. Wide shoulders. Strong arms. By comparison, his legs weren’t exactly straight and, she noticed, were bent at slightly different angles.
How extensive were his limitations? He could walk, clearly. And he couldn’t hold down a job as manager of the largest cutting horse ranch in Arizona without being able to ride, reasonably well at least.
Thank You, Lord, for that.
His pale blond hair was cut shorter, but his intelligent brown eyes were the same. They noticed everything, and, right now, they studied her scruffy appearance.
Kate lifted her chin a fraction. Employment wasn’t easy to come by for former inmates. She had no spare money for nice clothes or a fancy vehicle. If people were going to judge her for that, and not what lay in her heart, then so be it.
“Rand,” she started. “I’m so sor—”
He didn’t let her finish and stormed off, his gait awkward and stilted, yet proud. She clenched her teeth to stop herself from crying. Tears were a sign of weakness.
“That didn’t go well,” she said to Ansel.
“Give him time.”
“This is a bad idea.”
“This is a good idea. It just got off to a bad start.”
She blew out a breath. “I think I should go.”
“Let me show you around instead.” He gestured for Kate to accompany him.
She did. Reluctantly. A tour wouldn’t hurt anything, and the ranch owner had been kind to her. She could always leave afterward.
“Gary with the employment assistance agency told me about you for a reason, Kate. And not just because I’m shorthanded and in need of a wrangler. God has a plan and brought you to Still Water Ranch. I think it’s for you and Rand to unburden yourselves. You’re seeking absolution. He needs to forgive. This is your opportunity and his.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said. “Rand’s angry at me, and with good reason. He lost his career after the fall. His entire life.”
“And he found a new one, a life he loves. Guess he forgets that every once in a while. Being blindsided today didn’t help. My fault. I should have warned him.”
“Mr. Laurent—”
“I told you to call me Ansel.”
“Ansel. You’re very nice and generous, but I probably should refuse the job. I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“What do you say to a trial period? If after the end of youth camp you still want to leave, I won’t stop you.”
“Can I avoid Rand?”
He chuckled. “You’re going to cross paths with him. It’s unavoidable.”
Indecision tore at Kate. A week’s wages, a roof over her head and three squares a day would be more than she had yesterday. It would give her time to regroup and look for another job in the evenings.
But to what end? She’d submit a bunch of applications that would be rejected, like always. Subject herself to an emotional beating in more ways than one. Rand, too. Was that what she wanted?
Her stomach growled, and her back pinched from sleeping in her truck the last two nights.
“Okay. I accept.”
“Good.” Ansel smiled. “Now, about that tour. Over there are the arenas. The larger one’s for competitions and events and the smaller one’s for practice. Behind the mare barn and stables is the pasture for our brood mares and their foals. Another one houses the yearlings.”
He explained the ranch’s breeding, raising and training operation as he introduced her to Goliath. The handsome resident stallion seemed to instantly size Kate up with his intelligent eyes. Across from the stables stood a grain shed and covered haystacks. In the distant pasture, Rand drove a tractor hauling a flatbed trailer loaded with hay bales. A boy sat on the trailer, his legs dangling over the side. At least two-dozen horses plodded along behind them as the tractor made its way to one of the metal feeders on the south end of the pasture.
“That youngster is with the youth camp I was telling you about,” Ansel said.
They stopped along the pasture fence to watch Rand and the boy feed the horses.
“Youth Wrangler Camp lasts nine days,” he continued. “The participants work hard while they’re here. It’s not all fun and games, though there is plenty of that, too. As long as they obey the rules, do their chores without complaint, attend church service and Bible study, and participate in group counseling sessions, they get to enjoy the activities.”
“What kind of activities?” Kate asked.
“Riding lessons. Campfires and cookouts. Movie night. Their last full day, we have a tournament. Races and games, mostly on horseback.”
“Sounds great.”
“It’s one of the highlights. That, and the overnight trail ride, which leaves bright and early tomorrow morning. You’ll be going along. One of four wranglers.”
“What are my other duties?”
“I’ll give you the lowdown on the way to the bunkhouse.” They started walking again.
“Do I report to Rand?”
“You’ll report to Marcos. He’s the head wrangler. I’ll introduce you to him later. He reports to Rand, who’s ranch manager.”
“Gotcha.”
“My advice is to keep your head down and your nose to the grindstone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Most of your job will be overseeing the equipment. Repairs, cleaning, making sure the saddlebags are fully stocked. Then there’s running to town for supplies and medicine. Bathing and grooming and exercising the horses. If there’s any grunt work to be done, you’ll be the one assigned to it.”
They came upon a pair of small, quaint buildings opposite the mare barn that resembled cabins out of an Old West TV show. A circular firepit with an iron cooking grill sat in front of them, with a stack of neatly cut wood nearby. A couple dozen weathered lawn chairs surrounded the firepit, waiting for their nightly occupants.
“Bunkhouse on the right is for the men,” Ansel said. “One on the left is for the women. You’ll find a vacant bunk inside. Cots and sleeping bags have been set up in the middle for the girl youth camp participants. You’ll have to crawl over them, but it’s only temporary.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Mrs. Sciacca, the ranch cook, delivers breakfast burritos promptly at five thirty every morning outside the office, along with a brown bag lunch you can take with you for wherever you’ll be during the day. Dinner is at five thirty every evening around the campfire. Usually stew or chili or goulash. Something simple and filling. If you don’t like the food, you can fix your own. The bunkhouse has a fridge and a microwave.”
Was he kidding? After prison fare, Kate was hardly picky. “It sounds delicious.”
“You get paid every Friday at four. My wife can answer any questions regarding payroll.”
Kate would have to make the paltry balance in her checking account last.
“Need help unloading your stuff?”
“No, sir. I’ve got it.” She didn’t have much.
“Bible study is after dinner tonight. If you’re interested.”
“I am.”
“Rand will be there.”
What was her new boss expecting her to say? Kate wasn’t sure. After a moment, she blurted, “I heard how you and the Cowboy Church helped him find God.”
Ansel’s brows rose. “Kept tabs on him, did you?”
“Not me. Someone I know.”
“Family?”
“No. I don’t hear much from them.”
Truthfully, Kate’s parents and sister hadn’t spoken to her since her sentencing hearing. They were ashamed and told people she wanted nothing to do with them rather than the truth: they wanted nothing to do with her. At least her brother sent her the occasional email, which she answered.
“An old classmate from high school has stayed in touch with me,” Kate said.
Ansel nodded. “Well, we didn’t help Rand find God. He did that himself. We were just there to support him.”
“That’s not what my classmate told me.”
“Oh?”
“She said Rand met you and the members of Cowboy Church on the junior rodeo circuit. Not being a regular churchgoer, he didn’t have much use for you at first. But after the accident, you and the members came to the hospital and stayed in the waiting room for over a week, taking shifts. You prayed for his recovery and that he’d be able to walk again even when the doctors predicted he wouldn’t.”
Kate knew that part for a fact. One of the reasons the judge had thrown the book at her and the other three involved was the gravity of Rand’s injury and likelihood he’d be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
“When the surgery went better than expected,” she continued, “and Rand was able to stand, he invited you and the other church members into his room, where you all prayed together.”
Ansel smiled as if she’d stirred pleasant memories.
“You made a lot of trips to visit him after that, at the hospital and his parents’ house,” she continued. “Cheered his successes. Encouraged him when he was down. And after his second surgery when he took his first step, he made a commitment to God and the Cowboy Church.”
“He was blessed by our Lord’s good grace and a determination like no one I’ve ever met before.”
She knew the whole story. Two more surgeries followed. By then, Rand was attending Northern Arizona University. He eventually graduated with a degree in equine management. Diploma in hand, he hired on at Still Water Ranch where he was eventually promoted to manager.
About that time, Kate was up for parole.
“I’m very glad.” She lowered her gaze. “It doesn’t make what I did okay. I’m not saying that. I just would hate for him to suffer more than he has already.”
“Or you, young lady.”
She drew back. “I’m fine.”
“Gary told me you’ve been through a lot.”
“Not like Rand,” she said with a finality to let Ansel know she’d rather not talk about her six years in prison or the four that had followed.
Ansel nodded, getting the message. “Why don’t you unpack and then meet me in the office. There’s some paperwork you need to complete. I’ll call Marcos and have him meet us there. He can get you started on organizing the equipment for tomorrow’s trail ride.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Park your truck behind the grain shed with the rest of the ranch vehicles.”
“Will do.”
Kate hurried to her pickup, then moved it as instructed. She had little to unload and would only need to make one trip to the bunkhouse. Since her release, she’d gone from job to job, town to town, never staying long. Sometimes the decision was hers, other times, she was asked to leave. Former convicts tended to make people ill at ease.
At the door to the bunkhouse, she knocked. When no one answered, she tried the knob, found the door unlocked and went inside. One of the six beds lined against the wall appeared to be unoccupied. Kate didn’t wonder about her bunkmates. She’d spent years sharing communal space with other women and knew how to keep to herself and get along. Zigzagging through the obstacle course of six cots crammed into the small living room area, she reached the empty bed and dropped her duffel bag and backpack onto it.
At the foot of every bed sat a metal chest with a small padlock. Hers was the only one with a key in the lock. Good. Kate transferred her few valuables from her duffel to her backpack, preferring not to leave them out where they might tempt sticky fingers. It was a habit formed from necessity. She’d been the victim of theft before, both in prison and after her release.
She locked her backpack inside the chest and added the small silver key to her key ring—which she stuffed in her pocket before heading to the office to meet Ansel.
She passed a black horse tied to the hitching rail and paused at the office door, which was open a crack.
“Hello,” Kate said, and slowly entered.
A tall cowboy stood in the middle of the room. He wore a pale brown shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. She’d seen that shirt a short while ago.
Rand!
At the sound of her voice, he turned and narrowed his gaze at her.
Startled, she retreated a step and stuttered. “S-sorry. Ansel said to m-meet him here.”
“He had an emergency. I’ll handle your paperwork and get you started.”
Her heart banged like a bass drum. “What about Marcos?”
“He rode up the north trail for a look around. We got reports of a mountain lion sighting this morning.”
“Mountain lion! Are the foals safe?”
“It’s nothing to worry about. Not yet. If there is a mountain lion hanging around, he likely won’t stay. They don’t much like civilization.”
Huh. Here they were, she and Rand, having a normal work conversation. Was it possible he’d just needed to get used to the idea of her being at Still Water Ranch?
He picked up a clipboard from the desk and handed it to her. “These are the employment documents. Go ahead and fill them out. I’ll need two forms of ID. I assume you have them?”
His former civil tone had been replaced with one on the brusque side of surly. So much for him just needing to get used to the idea.
“Yes.” She patted her shirt pocket.
“A phone? You’ll need one.”
She pulled it out and showed him on the chance he didn’t believe her.
He gave the pay-by-the-minute, bottom-of-the-line model a passing glance. “I’ll be back in ten. You should be finished by then.”
He left, not quite slamming the door behind him. No subtleties there. He was unhappy about being put in charge of her and had telegraphed that to her loud and clear.
Much as she wanted to, Kate didn’t cringe.
One week. She could do this. Then, as she drove away with Still Water Ranch in her rearview mirror, she could tell herself she’d tried her best.
