Read Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail Online

Authors: Lorraine Turner

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Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail

“An uplifting story that reminds us that looking into the eyes and feeling the soul of a horse or any animal is the greatest gift that the creator gives humans. We are so fortunate to be able to work with and for our wonderful horses and burros and every single second with them is magic and indescribable. Look into their hearts and listen closely to them to save and strengthen your own morals, values, and compassion.”

—Bruce and Shirley Allen, LRTC Lucky Horse Rescue and Rehab, Wild Horse Mentors

“An inspiring story about survival. The Calico horses are a living link to our Great Basin history. They have returned to a natural state and survive in some of the most remote and challenging habitat of America’s Northwest. What threatens them threatens us all. They are on the front lines in the battle over the allocation of our natural resources and use of our public lands.”

—Neda DeMayo, President, Return to Freedom

“This book reminds us of the spiritual and natural bonding between human and animal—something that is rare to find in our busy modern culture. A connection so desperately needed in these important times of change. I spent magical moments with rescued wild mustangs and Lakota youth in the filming of Spirit Riders. Children have an innate ability to blend and become one with their horse brothers and sisters.”

—James Anaquad Kleinert, film director 

“The wild horses on the Outer Banks of North Carolina have survived five centuries of hurricanes and fierce nor’easters. They are strong and determined like the characters in this book. They will persevere against all odds.”

—Karen H. McCalpin, Executive Director, Corolla Wild Horse Fund

“A memorable journey that touches the heart.”

—Carrol Abel, Hidden Valley Wild Horse Protection Fund

CALICO HORSES AND THE PATCHWORK TRAIL

LORRAINE TURNER

SAN DIEGO, CA

2013

This book is dedicated to my parents,
Dot and George, who are now in Spirit.
Thanks for your continued help—I feel your presence beside me.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Acknowledgments

"Return to Freedom" and the Calico Herd

From the Author

About the Author

Chapter 1

Alone in her room, Carrie’s thoughts kept returning to the dinner conversation with her parents, and her homework was getting nowhere. She had read the same sentence three times and just couldn’t concentrate on the assignment she should have finished after school on Friday so she could be free all weekend. Throwing her backpack into the corner probably wasn’t a good idea, as it seemed to disappear under jackets and jeans. But it was hard to go all week cooped up in class and come home and be expected to do more school work. Dumb teachers. Don’t they know that we have lives that are filled with fun things and friends when we aren’t moping in our seats listening to them drone on about fractions?

Voices continued to drift up to her room and an uneasy feeling began creeping into her stomach. Her dad would be leaving soon and she wanted to say goodbye without all the drama. She glanced at the clock and closed her book. Sunday evenings were always the same ever since her parents split up. The fighting usually began whenever they discussed bills. And now that she had told them she knew about the letter…well, this would probably make things worse.

The letter.

Why didn’t she just leave the stupid thing in the trash? But how could she not read it when she saw her name in the first sentence. And besides, shouldn’t she be the angry one? Finding a letter from your dad written to your mom should be something filled with love; love letters to each other or something like that, not letters begging her not to move away.

Moving.

Carrie was still in shock. How could they do this to her? She thought of her best friend, Shannon, and tears began to form. She had ridden her bike straight to Shannon’s house the day she found the letter. Was that really only last Monday? It seemed like ages ago. Together they had fretted over the letter, wondering what to do. Shannon said, “Just ask them.” But Carrie knew she would be in trouble for reading her mother’s private mail so she mustered up her courage and waited until dinner tonight to ask them point blank. What did they say again? She thought about the look on her mother’s face and how her dad had left the room. She had been sent upstairs without much of an explanation. They said they would tell her all about it later, but that yes, it was true—she and her mom would be moving away. It was useless trying to get more information. That’s how it always ended—a grownup telling her she was too young to understand and that some day she would be told all about it. Some day. When would that be—after they were in a new place in a new town with a new school? She rubbed away the tears and was just about to head down the stairs when she heard a crash of what sounded like breaking glass.

She went down the steps and saw that the storm door was shattered. Her father looked at her in her bare feet.

“Get back, Carrie. There’s glass all over the place.”

“What happened? Where’s Mom?”

“Stay upstairs,” her mother called from the kitchen.

Her father was shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “You probably need stitches. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

“No, I’m fine,” her mother replied. “It’s bleeding a lot but it’s only a small nick. I feel so stupid. I heard you hit something with the truck and I guess I banged the door too hard and it just shattered. What did you hit?”

“Carrie’s bike. She left it in the driveway again.”

Carrie’s heart sank as she watched them from her perch on the stairs. Her dad was frowning as he slowly swept up the glass. Her mom’s hand was bandaged and her face was pale and she was fighting back tears. “I’m sorry I left my bike in the driveway,” Carrie said meekly.

“It’s okay,” her dad said. “But you’ll be without a bike now. It’s flat as a pancake.”

Carrie felt horrible but somehow watching her parents clean up broken glass together made her forget about the letter. Maybe they would, too. Maybe they would clean up the glass and clean up what was broken between them. Her mom looked up and Carrie went over and hugged her. Her dad took out the trash, grabbed his coat, and after some stalling at the door, said goodnight. There would be no more talk of letters that night. As she closed her bedroom door she thought about her unfinished homework. Her dog, Flannel, was curled up, lying against her books. She smiled, sending Flannel a silent thank you; this was a sure sign she was meant to forget about her homework and go to bed.

Chapter 2

The sun was slipping behind the Calico Mountains and the sound of an out-of-tune guitar brought Sam to her feet. She crossed the floor and caught the eye of Kelly, the woman who played the piano. Sam made a sign to cover her ears and Kelly grinned and nodded in reply. The guitar player stopped abruptly as Kelly kindly asked if she could help him tune it before they started their evening entertainment.

Sam had been busy all day with her guests at the Musical Mustangs Bed & Breakfast. Lots of tourists had come to Saddlecrest, Nevada, to attend the annual Ranch Hand Rodeo and every time she tried to grab a bite to eat, someone interrupted. She was so happy Brenda and Carrie would be coming soon to help. It would be a few months yet but Sam thought the work would keep Brenda’s mind off her troubles and Carrie would make lots of friends in her new school. Everything was all set. They would arrive in June after school ended and move right into the bungalow attached to the B&B.

The music began and people started to slowly gather around the tables. Laughter and the clinking of ice in chilled glasses filled the air.

She nodded to her assistant behind the front counter and headed back to her office. Maybe now she could finish her meal in silence. She sank into the oversized cracked leather chair and began to nibble on her now-cold veggie burger. It wasn’t easy being a vegetarian in cattle country. Oh, you could find plenty to eat but the teasing was non-stop. It was just another reason she was looking forward to having Brenda and Carrie come to live. “At least they won’t give me any grief,” she thought. Brenda and Sam were old college roommates and had abandoned meat around the same time.

Her thoughts drifted to those long ago years when the two of them dreamed of a future that held so much promise—fancy jobs, fancy clothes, and fancy homes where they would stay friends forever. Yet here she was in her not-so-fancy life grinning about the memories they shared and the friendship that grew stronger every year. The B&B had been in the family for years and now it belonged to Sam, or Samantha, as her parents still called her. They had retired to Florida, where they were sipping cool drinks, swimming in big pools, and playing bingo with their friends every Saturday night. Wasn’t Florida where she and Brenda had dreamed of living? Somewhere in the Keys, where they say the water is an amazing teal blue and trees called mangroves grow straight out of the salt water? Yet here she sat in Nevada, where the only teal she ever saw was the turquoise jewelry that was peddled to any passerby looking for a souvenir. “Oh, well,” she thought, no use reminiscing about life’s shoulda-couldas. Her dad’s worn chair seemed to creak in agreement and she sighed, thinking how great it was being her own boss and surrounded by wide-open spaces with plenty of fresh air.

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