Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail (11 page)

“And just where am I supposed to put my stuff, Mom? You never told me I would be sleeping on a couch,” Carrie said in a huff.

“Carrie Anderson, you are not making any sense. Get yourself in here now,” Brenda said, letting the door fall shut with a whump!

Carrie felt totally confused as she slowly rolled up from her slouched position in the chair and went inside. Brenda was standing near a pile of boxes that had Carrie’s name on them. Her duffle bag and backpack were still sitting on the couch where she threw them.

“Mom, I don’t even have a room. Where am I supposed to put my things?” She kicked one of the boxes.

“Of course you have a room. Wait…uh, didn’t Sam and I show it to you?” Carrie shook her head and looked at the stuff her mom had already unloaded—the familiar lamps and framed photos stacked against the wall. Her mom grabbed her hand and said, “Follow me.”

Brenda led her down the hall and opened a door that Carrie thought was a closet. The space looked like a storage room with its shelves and coat hangers. Her mom pulled Carrie through past the shelves and led her up a staircase around the corner.

When they reached a landing it opened into a spacious room that to Carrie looked like an attic. It was larger than her mom’s room and had a blue-checkered window seat tucked in between two white book cases. The curtain fabric matched the window seat cushions and pillows that were scattered on the bed. The medium-sized bed sat high on a raised wooden platform and had little wooden steps leading up to it. It looked like it was made for a queen. There was a tiny fireplace in the corner with a stack of wood nearby and Carrie looked at her mom with raised eyebrows.

“It used to be a real fireplace,” Brenda explained, “but now it’s one of those modern ones that you switch on electronically. You won’t actually be lighting any fires up here. I think Sam just leaves the wood there for decoration.”

A full-length mirror was attached to the back of the bedroom door and it reflected a small room that was connected to the bedroom. Carrie stepped down into the little alcove and saw a table with an old sewing machine in the center of the room. On the shelves that lined the room were small plastic bins in neat rows. Carrie opened one of them and looked at sparkly beads. Each container had something different—paper, ribbon, fabric, buttons, lace, and sequins. Others held glue, scissors, and other crafty items. She noticed a small bathroom tucked away in the corner. She peeked into the bathroom; it was much smaller than the shower back home, but perfect for her.

“How do you like it?” her mom asked. Carrie didn’t dare tell her what she really thought, so she sighed and said, “I guess it’s okay.” Brenda opened her mouth to protest just as Sam walked in.

“This was my room when I was your age, Carrie,” Sam explained. “My mom made it into a craft room when I went to college. I was going to throw it all out when I heard you were coming but thought you may want to go through some of these old odds and ends.”

“Really? You were going to just throw all of these bins away?” Carrie asked in amazement.

“I don’t use any of it and I thought…who knows, maybe you might want to make something out of all this stuff.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Carrie said, pulling out a container of purple rhinestones. Just then Flannel pushed her nose through the door as if to say, “Hey, what’s everyone doing up here?”

“Come on, girl,” said Carrie. “We have some boxes to put away.” Flannel followed along at her heels, enjoying the new smells of the bungalow. Carrie headed to collect her pile of stuff while the dog trotted off to explore the other rooms. Sam and Brenda went down to the kitchen and Carrie overheard their conversation about saving horses and eating cows. She picked up one of the boxes and flung her backpack over a shoulder and started up the steps to her new room.

Some time later she sat curled in her window seat watching the sun as it began to slip behind the mountains. The range looked golden with patches of pinks and lavender as the glimmering light dipped lower. Flannel was growling in her sleep nearby. I’m finally here, Carrie thought, as she looked at the unopened boxes stacked along the wall. What’s the hurry? I have the rest of my life to unpack, and besides, I‘m not ready to look at some of those framed photos from my old dresser.

Off in the distance something caught her attention and she squinted trying to make it out. She wasn’t sure what it was but it looked like a cat. She watched as the animal crept along on its belly stalking its prey. It reminded her of their neighbor’s cat, Abbey, the one who always left dead mice on her doorstep. I swear that cat had the wrong address. I wonder why it kept leaving those poor mice on our doorstep? Abbey was not what you would call a petting cat; she was more like a look-but-don’t-touch type. Carrie daydreamed about the time she and Shannon tried to pick up Abbey and how the cat hissed and scratched Carrie across her cheek with razor sharp claws. Ugh…that was horrible. Mom made a huge deal out of it and took me to the doctor and I had to get a shot and Shannon was sitting forever in the waiting room. And then she remembered the last phone call with Shannon and how her best friend was too busy to talk. I wonder if she’s hanging out with Brianna every day…I bet they’re best friends by now, thought Carrie. I don’t want to think of New Jersey or Abbey or our house or the beach or even Daddy. I just want to forget everything and everybody, she thought, as she looked back out the window at the animal hunting its prey.

The sun had almost finished setting with the last twinkling rays when she heard her mother’s voice calling up to her. “Carrie, you’re wanted on the phone…it’s Shannon.” Carrie’s heart skipped a beat and just as she turned to leave, something caught her attention. It happened so fast she wasn’t sure she could believe her own eyes: the mountains looked different. They seemed to be covered in fabric…and she saw what looked like stitches…and then all went dark.

Chapter 22

Saddlecrest, Nevada – The Bureau of Land Management is looking for volunteers. The BLM oversees land used for mining and livestock grazing, as well as the land’s wonders and wilderness used for recreation. Please sign up and volunteer your services today and become a partner in helping preserve natural and cultural history for future generations. Come make new friends who share your interest in nature and have fun keeping this beautiful land healthy. Some of the ways that you can help include trail work, wildlife monitoring, picking up litter, and planting trees. Citizens under the age of eighteen must have parental or guardian approval, whether they are volunteering as individuals or as part of a group. For more information, contact the number listed below.

Milla put down the purple-stained newspaper. It was covered in jelly from her toast. “Yuck,” she said, trying to wipe it off on a paper towel.

Her dad looked over from his usual spot at the kitchen table, sitting in the chair closest to the coffee pot. “Please don’t get that all sticky, Milla. I haven’t even read it yet.”

“Hey, look, Dad—there’s an article about the BLM looking for volunteers. It says you have to be eighteen or get permission from a grownup. Did
you
put it in the paper?”

“Nope, not me. It was probably sent in by another office. I don’t handle that stuff. No matter, you’re not old enough to be a volunteer, but maybe someday you can.” He reached for the paper, shooting her one of his silly fake smiles.

“You are so annoying, Dad,” Milla said, speaking with a mouth full of peanut butter.

“I am, huh?” he said, turning the pages of the
Saddlecrest Gazette
. “How come whenever I don’t let you do something I’m annoying but when you get your own way I’m a hero?”

“Hero-schmero, Dad. I’m never old enough to do anything. All you ever say is someday you’ll do this and someday you’ll do that.”

“And someday you’ll wish you were still a kid,” he replied.

Devon cleaned up the kitchen and looked at his watch. It was his only day off and there was so much to do around the house. He was so used to his mother watching Milla and now it was the first summer since her passing and he needed to find a new sitter. The college kid he had hired was no longer available and besides, he needed a long-term plan. Summer led to fall and that meant supervision after school and then there were school vacations and, ugh, he thought, how am I supposed to figure this out
plus
manage a staff of ten employees and a thousand wild horses? He thought of the woman he had just met, Brenda Anderson, and wondered if she was facing the same situation with her daughter? She mentioned she was looking for a full-time job, so what would she do for childcare? Hmm, it really was too bad Milla wasn’t old enough to join a volunteer group or organization because that would surely keep her busy.

He walked outside where she was sitting on a rock gazing out toward the mountains. “Milla, what did you think of that new kid from New Jersey?”

Milla shrugged her shoulders.

“Did you talk to her at all?”

“What’s to talk about? She just moved here and she’s a dog trainer and she doesn’t like me,” Milla said.

See, he said to himself, this is why he needed help with his daughter. He just didn’t understand girls. Milla was always full of drama and he didn’t
do
drama. He just wanted an answer to a question, plain and simple. He decided not to pursue this, as he really didn’t want to get dragged into a discussion on why Milla thought Carrie didn’t like her. Part of his job was to work with the wranglers overseeing the gentling of wild horses. He wondered if dog training was anything like horse training, but he wasn’t going to bring it up now—not when he really needed to find a trusty someone to watch Milla over the summer vacation. He turned and went back into the house, leaving her to her delusions of kids not liking her.

Milla thought about how awful she felt when Carrie left so abruptly. Was she being rude or had Milla said something to upset her? She only asked her if her family was living at the B&B. Oh well, she thought, it doesn’t matter—I’ll probably never see her again. She left her perch on her favorite rock and went into her bedroom. The paintings she had made of Flannel were now decorating her bedroom walls. She felt a bit sad as she looked at the artwork. Flannel had become a friend and she wished she would see her again, but that was probably wishful thinking, so she decided to just push it out of her mind. She looked at the photo of her grandma. She picked it up and plopped down onto her bed with it.

“I sure do miss you, Grandma. Dad won’t let me get a dog. He keeps telling me I’m too young to do stuff and I’ve been thinking about it…how come you never said that to me…not once. You always told me I could do anything and be anything, and all I had to do was follow my heart. Although I do remember the time I asked for a puppy and you told me to go ask Dad, and of course he said I was too little.”

Devon poked his head into the room and saw her talking to the photo of her grandma. He wasn’t sure if he should go or stay. Milla glanced over her shoulder at him and forced a smile. He stood there in silence as she walked over to the dresser and put the photo back. She was really hurting, he thought, and he wasn’t sure what to do. He should take her to a movie or play a game, but he had too much on his mind. He backed out of the room and walked away.

Devon began phoning the few people he thought could point him in the right direction. He understood horse care inside and out, but childcare…well, that was a whole different ballgame. He spoke with the wife of one of his staff members and she suggested a few places. It was a tedious process gathering the information. Slowly he discovered that most facilities charged a lot of money and had hours of operation that didn’t fit his schedule. Now what? he thought. I can’t take her to work with me. Maybe there was someone who worked from home and had kids Milla’s age. But where would he find someone like that, if they even existed? He made one more phone call to the college student, Jenny, who was his last resort, but her parents said she was out of town. Great—now I’m really stuck, he thought, hanging up the phone.

“I’m going for my bike ride, Dad,” Milla said as she slipped out the back door. She loved riding her bike through the neighborhood, pretending she was on a galloping horse. Each day she would imagine her bike was a different horse and she would make up names for them. Sometimes she would fantasize that a barking dog was a mountain lion and rode her bike faster to escape. As she pedaled down the street she noticed a younger kid named Fern dribbling a basketball. She knew the girl’s brother and he was creep, but she waved to Fern and stopped her bike and watched the girl make a few attempts to put the basketball into the net.

“Aww, almost,” said Milla. “Nice try, though.”

“Thanks,” Fern replied, as she ran after the ball that had rolled into a neighbor’s yard. She quickly disappeared under a truck, crawling on her belly after the ball. “Are you going to the fireworks next week?”

“Fireworks?” Milla asked. “What fireworks?”

“Fourth of July fireworks in Reno,” said Fern. “Aren’t you going?”

“I didn’t even know it was a holiday next week. I’ll have to ask my dad.”

Fern walked over to Milla, who was straddling her bike. “Why don’t you come with us?” Suddenly, the front door opened and Fern’s brother, Foot, came out. He was bigger than everyone in her class. He had huge feet and everyone always called him Big Foot or just Foot for short. Milla had forgotten his real name.

“Hey, raccoon face,” he sneered. “What are you doing in my yard? Did anyone give you permission?” he taunted.