Samantha McKinney wasn’t an ordinary 13-year-old girl, by any means. She didn’t attend school classes with the other kids of Sweetwater. She barely even left her room, let alone her house. She sat at her window, watching as life passed her by, very rarely did she join in. Her parents were kind, gentle people. Her father, Jonas, owned a small ranch, big enough to support his daughter’s special needs and the necessities his family required to survive. Her mother was a strong Christian, though her grace and her selflessness were the qualities that spoke the loudest. They both tried there hardest to make Samantha’s life as easy and comfortable as possible. Jonas and Gracie loved their daughter unconditionally, hiding it from no one. It hadn’t always been this way. Samantha wasn’t born with her special problems. Her parents, though, hadn’t changed all that much after the accident. They’d always been open with their emotions. Samantha had been too, but now she couldn’t bring herself to share her feelings with them. Unless she was angry, that is, or ashamed. She hated people to pity her, despite the fact that she did so herself. The accident had occurred two years ago. A long time for most of the town’s citizens, but to the McKinney’s it seemed like only yesterday. They said a team of runaway horses had pulled the carriage; the driver had been dumped from his station after falling asleep on the job. Samantha had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Regardless of the circumstances, the result had been tragically final. She had lost the use of both legs. It was a difficult challenge for a child that loved the freedom given her by those appendages. A challenge that still afflicted her heart two years later. She missed her horses most of all. She’d been a natural with them. Even though she was yet a child, she had a wonderful eye for horseflesh. This talent was a courtesy of her father, who could have made more than just a decent living with his own gift of the animal. Samantha looked toward the barn, painfully noticing the white blanket that covered the land. She used to love the snow, it had always reminded her of Christmas. Now, Christmas no longer held that appeal to her. It had lost its glitter when she had lost her legs. The holiday only seemed to make her condition worse, magnifying her useless limbs. The snow had fallen on time this year, as Christmas was only two days away. This contributed to her sour mood, which was more so than the usual. She had a suspicious feeling that her parents had something planned, and this did not please her. They had attempted surprises before, failing miserably to bring her out of her depression. Didn’t they know she didn’t want to feel this way? Couldn’t they see she didn’t want to be so sad all the time, waiting for an end to her miserable world? It was just that she hadn’t the will to change it. She hated to see the disappointment on her parent’s faces when their plan fell apart right before them. She hated to see the heartbreak that was so evident in their eyes. The barn door was pushed open, scraping up a heap of pure white snow before coming to a stop a full foot from the wall. She’d dream of snow angels that night, for sure. Her father, bundled up in his heavy coat and rawhide gloves, carried a shovel as he made his way through the eight inches of snow to the coral. He hammered at the ice that covered the water trough, careful to stand clear of the splash that was imminent when he broke through the thick crust. She envied him the ease at which he was able to complete his chores. What she wouldn’t give to have those chores. Those that were at one time hers to share. She wondered if he knew how lucky he really was. As if he had read her thoughts, Jonas glanced up toward her window. He raised his arm in a wave, his face beaming up at her. She tried to wave back, but her stubborn pride held her hands weighted down in her lap. She could see clearly the disappointment that shadowed his smile. He deserved a daughter that could return his love freely, one that could walk. She’d let them both down, forgetting conveniently, that it was something she couldn’t have prevented. Her mother’s favorite quote these days was ‘God works in mysterious ways’. Samantha believed in God, she just didn’t know if she liked him much. She’d never admit that to her mother, heavens no. She’d probably faint. It was how she felt, however, deep in her aching heart. Samantha moved her troubled gaze to a more pleasant view, one that would be a better scope for her growing imagination. She looked into the south pasture, where their broodmares were released for their daily exercise. There were twelve mares in all, four with foals. She imagined herself on the back on one buckskin mare, flying through the pasture as if they were a single being. The land rolled gently, rising and dipping across the distance. She preferred to ride bareback, as the experience seemed to add richness to the fantasy. She discarded the snow covered land for green grass and wild flowers, which was much more beautiful in her mind. They raced along the field, Samantha clinging tightly to the mare’s sides with her muscled thighs. They galloped a full mile before stopping at the creek she knew was there. She gave her horse her head, letting her guzzle the sweet liquid. Not too much though, for that could be dangerous to the winded mare. As she pulled her mount around, the buckskin snorted with defiance. She wasn’t yet ready to give up the cold refreshment. Samantha firmly squeezed her thighs, strong stout little legs, and sent the mare at a lope along the creek’s edge. For hours she rode atop the buckskin mare, exploring wild country and escaping the very real burdens that waited for her at the ranch. She was so lost in the fantasy that she didn’t hear her mother knock lightly on the door. “Samantha, honey,” she murmured through the thick wood. “Honey, come on and open the door for me.” Samantha furiously tried to ignore the annoying interruption. She and her mare had just discovered a hidden valley far away in her dreamland. Nothing in her real world could be nearly as interesting. “Samanthaaaa,” her mother sang. “Honeyyy, open the dooor.” Again she attempted to shut out her mother’s voice. “Samantha!” Finally she had had enough, Samantha turned her head to shout at the door, “Leave me be, Ma!” For several minutes, Samantha was sure her mother had granted her wish. She pleasantly leaped back into her reverie, only to be interrupted once more. “Samantha Jean McKinney! Open this door at once!” For several shock filled seconds, Samantha gaped at the door, mouth wide open. Then the anger rushed back full-force, prompting her to clumsily obey her mother’s command. She swung the door open, her eyes glittering with rage. “What is it mother,” she spit out the question, “that couldn’t have waited until dinner?” Gracie McKinney was reaching the end of her patience, “Samantha Jean, you were not raised by heathens. I expect you to address me with the respect I deserve.” “I’m not in the mood to listen to this right now, Mother. I’m very busy at the moment.” Samantha turned her chair around and wheeled it back to her window. “Please see that you close the door on your way out.” The sharp intake of air from behind her, warned Samantha that she’d crossed the line. She hadn’t meant to say such rude things to her sweet little mother. She’d just opened her mouth and out they’d flew, to hang in the heavy air. Instead of the angry loud words she expected to hear, her mother’s calm cold voice seemed ten times worse. “I’ve had enough of this, Samantha. Until you can face your father and I without that self-pity you’re so doggedly holding on to, you will stay in your room.” Samantha felt that this was not a punishment but a privilege, until her mother spoke again. “You will have to come to the table for your meals, it isn’t fitting for you to take them in your room when you’re not sick.” After the accident and her new life had begun, Samantha refused to make her bedroom downstairs. She couldn’t make the stairs on her own, so her father would carry her down. He’d given her an old cowbell so he could hear her when she needed him. She motioned to the bell sitting on her valise. “Ring your bell when you’re ready for supper. Your father will bring you down.” Samantha was stunned, and justly so. Her mother had never spoken to her in such a manor. What made everything worse, though, was that she knew her mother was right. She wanted nothing more than to fling herself into her mother’s arms, begging her forgiveness. Her pride wouldn’t let her, she turned her cold eyes to her mother, “Goodnight, Mother.” How had this happened? She had not meant to be such a burden on her mother. She crumpled the minute the click of her door being closed reached her ears. She could have cried out, “Mother, forgive me. Please come back!” Instead she let fall her silent tears, making no attempt to remove their evidence. Samantha didn’t know how long she sat in front of her window, crying. The self-pity had raised it ugly head, unleashing in her a depressing sadness. After she had shed her last tear, she glanced out the window. Night had settled on the ranch, taking with it the last ounce of strength in her body. It was all she could do to wheel across her small bedroom and tiredly pull her self into the bed. She fell asleep on top of her blankets, fully clothed. She did not dream about snow angels that night. Morning dawned late for Samantha. She’d been more exhausted than she’d of thought possible, for her little amount of exercise the day before. Of course, she hadn’t done much of anything in the way of keeping fit for the last couple of years. Her stomach growled in protest of the food it had been denied. She didn’t eat lunch or supper yesterday, and today she’d already missed out on breakfast. Then it all came rushing back to her. The memory of the fight her and her mother had gotten into sent her stomach into nervous cramps. She wouldn’t let her starve, couldn’t do that to her daughter. But Samantha wasn’t positive. Not after the way she’d treated not only her mother, her father as well. What a fine mess she seemed to always get herself into. Samantha pulled herself into her wheelchair, the fine bulky contraption that it was. A chair with wheels; she liked to have never gotten used to the idea of carting herself around in it. After a while, though, she was grateful for the privacy it entailed. She rolled over to the window. She could tell by the sun that it was only mid-morning. Her father was nowhere to be seen. With nothing interesting to watch and her mind too worn out to dream up fantasies, Samantha wheeled herself to her valise. It would be so simple to just pick up the bell and ring it. Her mother would fix her a late breakfast. Maybe a heaping plate of biscuits and gravy or some crisp bacon and fried eggs. “Oh, quit it, Samantha. You’ll just drive yourself crazy thinkin’ about all that food.” But saying was easier than doing. For several more minutes she busied herself by dreaming up all kinds of delicious foods, until she was practically drooling in her lap. It wouldn’t be so bad if she let her mother win, after all a mother knows best. Besides she needed to get a little change in her surroundings. She would, of course, let her mother know that the only reason she’d won was because Samantha didn’t wish to starve to death. She’d at least wait until dinnertime; give her Mother an extra little dose of worry. As she found out, though, that was one of the hardest decisions she’d ever made. Not a second after she’d seen her father heading in for his own meal, did she retrieve her cowbell and hesitantly ring it. She ate ravenously at both dinner and supper, careful to show her parents respect, though nothing more. It was true she had too much pride, a feeling she couldn’t dispel no matter how hard she wished. She couldn’t apologize for her behavior. The words were there but her tongue would not release them. Instead she simply ate her meal, drowning in the poison that steadily seeped into her heart. She wondered fearfully that someday this pride might turn into a darker emotion. One that she would rather die then give harbor too, but one that would sneak up on her, undetected until it had clamped its talons onto her soul. She feared it would shift into hate. Hatred of her condition, hatred of the anger she held for her parents and for God; hatred for life. Finally she pushed her plate aside, her stomach satisfied and full. She patiently waited for her parents to finish their meal and then she would retire. Suddenly it dawned on Samantha that this day was Christmas Eve. She had forgotten entirely about the Holiday. In years past, they would gather around the Christmas tree, cups of hot cocoa warming their hands. They would each open their presents, laughing and crying when the occasion merited it. Even on the year before they indulged in this Tradition, regardless the underlying sadness that could’ve reared it’s nasty head at any moment and did, several times. It had been a disaster from the beginning, and so Samantha was sure that they would not repeat it. And it looked as if she was right. Her parents had not mentioned anything about the celebration. She didn’t know whether she should be pleased or bitterly disappointed. A little of both emotions seized her heart. Though it contradicted her earlier feelings, she was angry that her parents had given up on her so easily. Sure enough, as her mother cleared the table her father toted her back to her room. He sat her on her bed and went back down stairs to retrieve her chair. Minutes later she was kissed goodnight by her parents and left alone once again. Sleep did not come easy for Samantha. She tossed and turned, as best her paralyzed legs would allow her, and her mind wrapped and unwrapped itself around a hundred different thoughts. When morning finally came, Samantha felt as if she had slept not a wink. Anxiously she sat up and reached for her chair. She whipped her head around to look when her arms touched nothing more than thin air. Apparently she had slept for a little bit, as she would’ve noticed her chair being stolen if she’d have been awake. “Father!” Samantha yelled, “Father, come quickly!” Her eyes searched the room, thinking maybe some cruel person had hidden it somewhere. Her door flew open at that instant and in swept her mother and father. “Samantha, honey, what is it?” “Someone has stolen my chair, Father.” She waved her hand in the general area of her bedroom. “I can’t think of who’d want the contraption. It’s an ugly sight to a person’s eyes.” Jonas hid a grin behind his hand, his eyes twinkling in amusement, “Maybe old St. Nick took it while you was sleepin’.” Samantha rolled her eyes, she’d known since she was a young child that Chris Cringle was just make-believe. But she decided to play along, “Why would he need a wheelchair when he has a sleigh and eight flying reindeer?” Gracie winked at her husband, “Maybe he took your chair and left you his sleigh and reindeer.” Samantha couldn’t help but smile at her parent’s foolishness. “Let’s go check and see.” Jonas swept his daughter into his arms and carried her downstairs. Gracie followed close behind and once they reached the front door she wrapped them in shawls. Samantha had to giggle when she saw the picture her father presented in a woman’s lacy shawl. She was amazed at how easily her anger had fled to be replaced by the love she had for her family. Her pride was even absent from this situation. For the first time in years she felt alive, she felt involved in something more than self-pity. The three of them went out into the cold morning. Despite the fact that reason told her there would not be a magical sleigh pulled by flying reindeer, Samantha found her self searching her surroundings for a glimpse of it. Her father headed straight for the barn, wading through inches of powdery snow. “Old St. Nick wouldn’t have left them out in the cold. I’m sure he woulda made use of the warm barn.” He informed her when he noticed her studying their land. Gracie pulled open one door to the barn. Samantha inhaled the rich smell of horse, leather, and manure; a smell that some would find offensive, but a flavor that had been missing in her life since her accident. Her parents must have already been to the barn beforehand because the lanterns had been lit and hung. It took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior. Samantha gasped as her eyes took in a sight that swelled her heart. It wasn’t a sleigh and eight reindeer, but a beautiful paint mare that stole her breath. She was saddled and ready. “Her name is Katy.” Samantha’s mind raced with tantalizing fantasies. She imagined herself flying over the plains atop the magnificent horse. Suddenly cold reality slapped her in the face. She couldn’t ride any more than she could walk. Her anger took reign of her heart once again. “Where’s my chair? I want my chair.” Gracie and Jonas looked at each other, worried that maybe their plan would fail. “Honey, she’s yours. Merry Christmas, Samantha.” Samantha turned her head to look at her mother, eyes that pierced like knives, “I don’t want her, take her back.” Jonas, as stubborn as any mule, carried Samantha to the horse. “She’s your responsibility now.” Gracie went into an empty stall in the back of the barn and came out with Samantha’s ‘stolen’ wheelchair. Jonas gently sat her in its seat and handed her the reigns. He stood back and issued a command to the horse. “Katy, mount.” Samantha watched as the horse lowered her body first to one knee then followed by folding the rest of her legs underneath her until she was lying on the ground. “Samantha, pull yourself into the saddle. Hold on real tight to the handles and when your ready say ‘rise up’.” Samantha stared at the horse with amazement, hearing her father’s commands but not quite understanding them. Her eyes lit on the saddle, it was different than any she’d ever seen before. Instead of a saddle horn it had two handles. The seat curved up to end about half way up her back. Samantha swung her gaze back to her father. Could it be possible for her to ride? She would have to make use of the power in her arms to be able to keep herself seated. If she fell… Well, she’d fallen before she’d just have to get back on, again. With determination, Samantha leaned forward in her chair. She firmly grasped the handles on the saddle and pulled herself onto the horse. She had to pull her leg over the saddle with one hand and place her foot into the stirrup. Even though the barn was chilly she had sweat running down her face before she was settled. “Hold on real tight, honey.” Her mother crooned to her. Samantha closed her eyes, calling on the calm she needed to attain her courage. She opened her eyes, grasped the handles, “Katy, rise up,” She said clearly, her voice wavering only slightly. Katy powerfully rose to her feet, her muscles bunching and relaxing as she finally stood to her full 16 hands. Samantha felt nauseous at first, as the raw power of the horse simply unnerved her. But when Katy was to her feet and she was towering over her parents at a height she hadn’t been in two years, Samantha at last found the peace she’d been missing when she lost her legs, those appendages that defined who she was and who she could be. Her life had been rested from her will, stolen by fate, and had been given back to her by a horse. Something that was as simple and as truthful as an animal. The parameters her mind had placed because of her loss came crumbling down, and once again her dreams were attainable; her destiny was hers to control. Jonas’ face was aglow, his smile reached from ear to ear, “Now say ‘Katy walk’.” Samantha did as she was told and Katy did as she was commanded. They made a perfect pair, horse and girl. Jonas wrapped his arm around his wife, as they stood there, both content with their gift. They understood what made this gift so special, because their daughter could walk once again. * * * Lou, It ain’t all I had in mind it would be. Everyday we wake up before the sun, tired and scared. Most of the time it’s rainin’, and the wind hits you like icicles. Breakfast ain't much, just some burnt biscuits, three days old, and a few slices of raw bacon. I’ve lost a lot of weight; you probably wouldn’t even recognize me. Then we march out, knowing that this may be the last meal we ever have. Katy don’t look much better. I try to take care of her but the hay is gone and the grass is scarce. I can count her ribs, Lou, and the number seems to grow by the day. I think I’m gonna lose her before this damn war is over. I never should have done it. I never should have left you there. I keep thinking how our life would be right now. We’d have a ranch, nothing real fancy, just big enough to take care of our needs. There would have been our children, two or three of 'em, all looking as beautiful as you. And we’d have been together. I never would have known what it’s like to forget your beautiful face, or the sound of your husky voice. Louise, I need to touch you, to hold you, to see you again. And I need to hear you say you forgive me. I’ve thought about just riding away from this war. I don’t think I’d regret it much, not if I was with you again. But I can’t do it. I can’t make myself turn my back on these men. They’ve saved my life too many times. I know it’s askin’ a lot from you, but I need you to forgive me. I know I promised you I’d never leave you, and if I’d have known then what I do now, I never would have broken my word. If I don’t make it through this war, Lou, I want you to know that I love you. I want you to know that I was wrong; that loyalty to land is far outweighed by loyalty to the person you love. I have to go now. I love you more than you know. Kid Louise carefully folded the letter back into her saddlebag. Even though she had every word memorized, it brought comfort to her just to see his writing. It was the only letter she’d received from Kid and it would be the last. Ten months ago he was killed defending the land that he was born to. Because of her stubborn pride he died believing she would never forgive him. She must have a hundred letters she wrote him that she never mailed. A hundred opportunities she let waste away in a wooden box, miles away from its intended. In a war where every second he faced death and he believed she would never forgive him. How could she forgive herself? If he’d have known that she still loved him, still wanted to be his wife, still wanted to bare his children, would he have been determined to survive? Determined to come home to her? Could three simple words on one sheet of paper have given him the hope he needed to defy the odds? Ten months had gone by and she still did not have the answers. Ten months and she was just a walking bag of emotions, ready to erupt at any moment in a cascade of teary anger. Her one chance at peace, one chance to atone from the mistakes she had committed, was to find the one thing that never failed him. The one that stood by him no matter what choices he made. She had to find Katy. She’d already tracked the horse to Sweetwater, a feat that seemed nearly impossible eight months ago. But her patience and dedication was rewarded when she had found a soldier that remembered selling the paint mare to a small rancher in Sweetwater. Of course she had followed several leads that had not panned out in the past, and she would not be so convinced that her search was nearly at an end if the soldier wouldn’t have said her name was Katy. Lou mounted Lightning, anxious to end her journey. She was a mile behind Sweetwater, wading through inches of snow that hindered her travel somewhat. The soldier hadn’t remembered the exact name of the rancher, but he said it sounded something like ‘McKenzie”. Kid’s death entailed that everything he possessed should be returned to his family, which should have included Katy, but due to their lack of dependable horses she had been drafted. When the war ended eight months ago, they had an excess of horses so they sold them cheap at auctions. The town of Sweetwater was a haven of memories. Some she’d forgotten, most she painfully remembered. Hastily she pushed them from her mind, she wasn’t ready for the memories and the pain they uncovered. She hitched Lightning to the post in front of the Mercantile, where she intended to inquire on the location of the rancher. Upon entering the well-stocked store, Lou was immediately helped by the owner, Mr. Williams. “G’day sir. Can I help ya with anything?” Lou fidgeted with her glasses, “I’m lookin’ for a rancher by the name, McKenzie.” The suspecting Mr. Williams peered at her with wary eyes, “Look, Mister, I ain’t willing to loose a customer by givin’ you his whereabouts so’s you can cause trouble.” “Mr. Williams I’m in need of purchasing a few horses, that’s all.” The owner studied her for a moment longer, undecided on whether he could believe the stranger. Finally he nodded in the direction opposite the way she’d come, “The McKinney ranch is about two miles out.” Lou hastily thanked the man and exited the store. As she mounted her horse and turned him north, she could still feel his eyes on her. It took Lou the better part of an hour to pick her way to the McKinney ranch. As the buildings came into view, Lou had to pull Lightning to a halt. Her vision blurred, as tears sprang to her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. This ranch was the picture in her heart of the home she was to have shared with Kid, and the dream that had died with him. She hated to be reduced to tears, it was completely against her nature, or had been until ten months ago. Then her heart had taken over. Broken and crushed it now ruled her head. She could no sooner control her emotions than tame a wild storm. When the raging emotions slowed to a trickle, Louise resumed her travel. The ranch house was the first building she reached. No sooner had she dismounted than the door was opened and a tall man stepped onto the porch. “Is this the McKinney ranch?” “Yes sir, I’m Jonas McKinney.” Jonas extended his hand in a welcome. Lou immediately liked this man. He had an air of honesty and compassion that was lacking in men following the aftermath of the war. She took his hand and smiled, “Mr. McKinney I’m lookin’ to purchase some horses.” Jonas smiled and as he turned to close the door, which he’d left open, he issued a request, “Please, just call me Jonas.” Lou nodded, “I’m just Lou.” “Alright, Lou, why doncha just follow me to the barn. I’ve got some good ones there.” Lou followed behind Jonas as they entered the barn. She stood in the center isle while Jonas lit the lanterns. She waited nervously for a glimpse of the illusive horse, her eyes searching each stall as the dancing rings of light illuminated it. Abruptly from the house came a ringing sound. Jonas excused himself and disappeared from the barn. Louise continued her perusal of the stalls. For a moment she feared that Katy wasn’t here after all, that her search was not at an end. Then she saw her, head hung over the stall’s door and ears pricked with curiosity. Katy must have recognized her to, because she gave voice to a piercing whinny that rang through the barn. Lou crossed to her and threw her arms around her neck, burying her face in her mane. This time she didn’t cry. Her heart swelled with love for this horse, she was the only thing Lou had left of Kid. Katy was her link to the past, a tie to her first true love, whose passion and silent courage she would never forget. There was a darker reason, a shadow that hovered in the back of her mind. If she had Katy to care for she would have a reason to live. She didn’t consciously think about taking her own life, but it was there, just the same. She couldn’t picture a life without her husband, because he was her foundation. She’d had so many fights with him because he was so protective over her, but it had been just a front. It was easier to push him a way then admit she needed it, that she liked it. It was so much safer not to let him become apart of her, not to depend on him, because in the end one of them would have been let down. Only this time they had both hurt each other. The sound of snow crunching under booted heels sent Louise scrambling away from Katy’s stall. She did not think it wise to show such emotions over a horse, as Jonas may begin to question her. She turned to the creak of the barn door and watched as Jonas stepped in with a girl in his arms. Shortly after, a woman entered carrying a.. a chair. Louise lifted her eyebrows, curious. The woman placed the chair on the ground and Jonas placed the girl in it. It was as the girl began to move closer that Louise realized the chair had wheels on it. She’d seen one before, at the orphanage in St. Joe. “She’s a beauty ain’t she?” It took Louise a bit to realize Jonas was talking about Katy. She simply nodded then turned as if to study the horse's confirmation. “Her name’s Katy. She’s my daughter’s horse.” Louise whipped her head back around to study the girl. Was this the daughter he was referring to? “In fact, it’s time for her daily ride.” Louise moved further back from the stall, as Jonas unlatched the door and grabbed the bridle hanging on the wall. A moment later he led Katy out into the open aisle. “Samantha, darling, hold her head while I get her ready.” Samantha wheeled herself to Katy’s side and gently took the reins. Katy lowered her head to search Samantha’s lap for a treat. Samantha laughed as the mare found the treasure located in a hidden pocket among her cloths. After Jonas had Katy brushed and saddled he crossed to his wife’s side, issuing a wink that Louise did not miss. Louise scrunched her eyebrows in puzzlement. Would the girl miraculously get up from her chair and mount the big horse. “Katy, mount.” Samantha said firmly. Louise was taken aback as Katy did exactly as she was commanded. She watched as Samantha pulled herself onto the mares lowered back and after another command Katy climbed back to her hooves. It was an amazing sight to behold and she almost pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Louise was touched by the love Katy had for Samantha. The same love and devotion she’d given Kid. Louise knew how strong a bond could be between a horse and it’s master, but she’d never quite seen it performed in this manner. “Mister, are you okay?” Louise looked up into the face of the child, unaware of the tears that were spilling down her cheeks. “Oh…” Lou blushed her secret was discovered. Along with her disguise went the last of her self-resistance. Her loss swelled in her heart, in her soul to find a way out through tears. She crumpled onto the barn floor, her strength gone. She was too caught up in the emotions to care that she was among strangers. Once she had let love back into her heart in the form of one crippled girl and her devoted horse, she’d given every other emotion admittance through that door. Was it possible that in the course of one day her broken life could be repaired so easily? She had come to this ranch with the purpose of purchasing a part of the man she had loved with every essence of her being and had lost until the day she met him again in the plane of spiritual existence. Could she forgive herself for allowing Kid to die simply because her pride was stronger than her love? And when she did forgive herself what then would be her purpose in life? And then she knew the answers, they were clear to her now. She had a sister and a brother to love, and she had their love. These were her life’s lessons, all the pain and heartache and the regrets were hers to learn from. She had reached the crossroads of her existence. She could either choose to ignore them, to perish without fully experiencing the rewards life had yet to offer her, or she could choose to persevere to become a stronger woman because of them. With one last ragged sigh, Louise climbed to her feet. She turned to confront the bewildered gazes of the McKinney’s, “Thank you.” She said to them, and then she turned back to Samantha and Katy, “Take care of her, she’s special.” Louise left them there; amusement and confusion reflected their emotions. She mounted Lightning and turned her towards St. Joe. She would never be able to express to the McKinney’s what they had given back to her. In all of her confusion and newly acquired courage, the only thing she was certain of was that her life didn’t look so unbearable anymore. Email Courtnee HOME