Egret Ranch: Children’s Home, Inc.

By Andrew Gaeddert

After the death of his two sisters in a house fire and the arrest of his father for arson, nineteen-year-old TY Schmelling suddenly finds himself homeless and broke, unable to go to college as he’d planned. To make ends meet, he takes a job at Egret Ranch, a residential treatment facility for emotionally disturbed children in rural Mendocino County, California. Ty hopes that the facility’s atmosphere will reflect its peaceful surroundings.
The truth is much darker. The Ranch’s director is a manipulative psychiatrist with personality disorders of his own. Patients and staff live in a high sexualized environment fueled by binge drinking and recreational drug use.
Suspenseful and raw, Children’s Home Inc., tells the realistic story of how Ty confronts the challenges of working in an environment where the adults are as sick as the children they are supposed to be helping.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Dec 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483436999

Book preview

Egret Ranch

Children’s Home, Inc.

Andrew Gaeddert

Copyright © 2015 Andrew D. Gaeddert.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-3698-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-3700-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-3699-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015913700

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 3/16/2016

Contents

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1

Ty Schmeling stood by the side of the road with his thumb out when a logging truck pulled over. Ty climbed into the cab. The long-haired driver offered him a joint. Ty took a puff and handed it back. The driver held the joint between his teeth and put the truck in gear. The gears ground as the driver pulled back onto the road. Ty smelled burning wood and diesel exhaust. He wondered how long his father would be in jail. The police said his father torched the house to get the insurance money, with his two sisters inside. His father said he woke up in the middle of the night to a smoke-filled house, and that when he tried to get into the girl’s room, he was unable to open the door. He went outside to get help, and the next thing he remembered was the medics reviving him on the sidewalk. Ty came home the next day after spending the night at his girlfriend Sabrina’s house to find his house completely gutted. He was so shocked, he walked around the block thinking that his eyes had deceived him, or that he was dreaming, but he wasn’t.

The trucker let Ty off at Ranch Road, and Ty walked past the mill, small sharecropper shacks and a white mobile home before a bend in the road.

Farmhouses, goats, and sheep dotted the horizon.

Dust kicked up as a VW van passed and Ty heard a snippet of The Grateful Dead song Uncle John’s Band.

Ty walked down a narrow, steep section of rutted road, wondering if he was making the right choice in leaving his father. The newspapers thought he was guilty. Channel Four reported on the fire and declared it an act of arson and quoted the fire marshal who said that the fire wasn’t electrical. Even his father’s own lawyer probably thought he did it.

While staying at Uncle Buzz’s apartment, pretending to sleep, he overheard Buzz say that Ty’s mother had manic depression and schizophrenic tendencies and maybe she set the fire as an act of divine retribution.

Ty came to a heavily wooded stretch of road and heard the river roaring. As he walked down a hill, the road narrowed. He saw cars parked below him on the right, a mud embankment on the left. He heard a car without a muffler roaring behind him, at the same time a brown van approached from the other direction. Ty’s feet gripped the edge of the road so tightly his shins hurt.

The van maneuvered to let an old rattling Comet through. Why walk when you can ride, said a woman wearing a bandanna on her head and a hand-rolled cigarette in her mouth, stopping the Comet for Ty.

No thanks, Ty said to her, seeing buildings and a clearing through the thick woods. Dust and exhaust covered Ty’s face as the Comet inched down the hill to avoid sideswiping the van.

At the foot of the hill was a one-story building and a grass lot the size of a football field. Past the field were one- and two-story wooden buildings. There was no sign of any children.

Ty opened the glass door and announced himself to the receptionist. Hi, I’m Ty Schmeling. I’m here to see Dr. Bertlesman.

The receptionist checked her appointment book. I’m sorry, who are you?

I’m supposed to begin work tomorrow as a counselor, Ty said.

The receptionist regarded him skeptically. This isn’t a summer camp. It’s a residential treatment facility for emotionally disturbed children, she said, continuing to look at her calendar. No, there’s no record of you, she said, shaking her head.

That can’t be, Buzz said—

Buzz Schmeling? the receptionist frowned. You aren’t related to him are you?

Yes, he’s my uncle, Ty said.

Holly! the receptionist yelled. Her voice traveled down a narrow hall. At the end of the hall, a typewriter was clacking. A round woman wearing glasses and a knit sweater dress appeared. This young man says he is working here.

News to me, Holly said, looking at Ty. I’m Holly Ontario, can I help you?

He’s related to Buzz Schmeling, the receptionist said.

Oh.

My uncle said there was a job waiting for me here. I’m supposed to talk with Dr. Bertlesman.

Dr. B doesn’t hire the child care workers, I do, Holly said. When is your interview? she asked.

I sent a resume in the mail, Ty said.

Do you have a copy of an acceptance letter? Holly asked.

According to Dr. B, there were several openings. I really need this job, Ty said.

The receptionist and Holly looked at one another. They murmured back and forth leaning over the appointment book. I’ll tell you what, young man, you can come back tomorrow at 3:00 for an interview.

Come back at three? Where will I sleep?

There’s the Zeese Motel, Nancy Ukulele operates a bed and breakfast west of here, and there are some rooms to rent above the Saloon.

How will I get there? I don’t have a car, Ty said.

How do you expect to get around here without a car? This may not be the right job for you. Do you at least have a license? Ty nodded. I’ll tell you what we can do. You can spend the night in Blue House. Alice will go over the directions and the rules, Holly said, nodding at the receptionist. Okay?

Fine, Ty said. At the appointed time the following day, Ty walked back down Ranch Road. He had met some of the ranch workers the previous evening at the farmhouse. They all complained about the long hours and low pay over the constant chatter of the television. They were all at least ten years older than he was. Enid was an ex-waitress from Santa Rosa, Steve used to be a teacher in Watts, and Sean was a bear of a man who looked like he could bartend at a biker bar. Before the Ranch he worked as a teacher’s aide. Ty slept behind the ratty sofa in a borrowed sleeping bag on the mildewed shag carpet. In the morning he looked at himself in the mirror. A few pimples were on the chin of his gaunt face. His long hair needed washing.

The valley’s beautiful, isn’t it? Holly began the interview in a small office in the administration building. Ty agreed. He guessed that Holly was about the same age as his dad. Not everyone can live here, on account of the isolation. The main sources of income are timber, sheep, and children. The nearest movie theatre is a forty-minute drive, and you can make it out to the coast in thirty minutes. It takes over an hour to reach Santa Rosa. Another challenge is men outnumber women three to one. Do you have a girlfriend back home? Holly asked. Ty nodded. Good. Keep an eye on her when she comes up here to visit you—that is, if you get the job. Ty swallowed. You can stay in the Blue House temporarily, but I have to warn you that rents in the valley are high for what you get, and we can’t afford to pay a lot. Some of our people share apartments in Ukiah. Our shifts are five days on, two days off. As a newbie, you’ll have your days off during the week, not weekends. What makes you want to work with abused children?

Ty swallowed. Buzz didn’t say they were abused. He said some of them were found digging through trash bins for food, and others stole cars.

Nearly all the children were abused by an adult, some sexually. One of the kid’s fathers is a mass murderer.

If you tell me who was sexually abused, I can be extra nice to them, Ty said.

Holly shook her head. I don’t think this is going to work out.

But they told me last night that there were openings. Somebody named Ronin walked off the job last night. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, or an expert in autism. I need to save money for college, Ty said.

You are only a few years older than our oldest residents. We need a year commitment.

I can do this job. I worked for the Institute for Psychodrama!

Your resume says that you spent a summer working with autistic children. If we hire you, we will have you start in Carly’s House with the youngest children and the four autistics.

I just want a chance.

Very well, let me have someone show you around. Holly walked to the reception desk and talked through a walkie-talkie. After a long wait, a slightly pudgy woman with waist-length blond hair appeared. She introduced herself as Tipper Crosby. Are you from the city? she asked as they walked past a huge oak tree in front of the cafeteria to Carly’s House, a one-story wood cabin with three bedrooms, overlooking a patch of dirt and the school, a series of low- slung modular buildings. There’s no nightlife here, Tipper continued.

It’s quiet, Ty said, looking out the back window, beyond the swing set, to a grove of oaks and the Egret River.

Wait until they get out of school, Tipper said. Sitting down in the compact living room, she asked why he wanted to work with emotionally disturbed children.

I want to help those less fortunate, Ty answered.

Tell me about your home life growing up.

Ty shrugged. My parents split up when I was young. The judge said I had to live with my mother, but my mom didn’t really know what to do with us, she’s an artist, so we ended up living with my father.

Sounds hard.

Ty tilted his head. It wasn’t so bad. My dad took us to Giants games and every summer we went to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk.

If you get accepted to work at Carly’s House, there is a lot of custodial duty. Child care workers keep the unit clean, serve meals and give the kids baths.

I do that at home, so it’s no big deal, Ty said.

Won’t your family miss you? Tipper asked.

That’s a long story, Ty said softly. Couldn’t I start on a trial basis? If you don’t like me you don’t have to hire me.

Some people think that by working at the Ranch they can work out their own childhood issues, but the children here need more from us than that, would you agree?

I think so.

The children come from diverse backgrounds and have a wide range of needs. Johnny, Mao, Richard and Michael Jackson are autistic, Ellen’s mother is a prostitute in Oakland, Glen was found dressed in rags digging for food in a dumpster behind Safeway, Randall has been in and out of foster care since he was two, and Larabee is a burn victim, so try not to flinch when you see him. The kids call him Butt Face. The daily routine consists of waking the kids up, feeding them breakfast, cleaning up. We have activities, chores, and free time in the afternoon. After dinner is homework, followed by story time, and then bed. Saturday night is movie night.

Where are the kids’ parents? Ty asked.

Behind bars, mental health facilities, some of the autistic kids even have two intact parents. Holidays are especially hard on the kids. As a new employee, you are low man on the totem pole. You’ll have to work weekends and holidays.

I meant do the parents ever visit?

Some are prohibited from seeing their children, others are allowed supervised visits. Consistency is something lacking in the residents’ lives, which is why we insist on a year commitment. You’re still young, what do you want to do with your life?

After my year here, I want to go to college to be a teacher or get an MFCC.

Ambitious, Tipper said.

"Uncle Buzz is working as a psych tech and is studying to be a social worker. He said it’s a lot easier than working