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God and Good Horses
God and Good Horses
God and Good Horses
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God and Good Horses

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In Ellie's deepest, darkest moments, she wanted to know "What did I do wrong? Why didn't she want me? Why couldn't I have been born to you?"

In my deepest, darkest moments, I had cried out to God, "What did I do wrong? Why won't you send us a baby? Why would you make me want to be a mother and then not give me a child?" Looking at Ellie was like looking at my own pain through a two-way mirror. The holes in her heart matched my own. She wanted a mom. I wanted a baby. And God had answered.

Sallie and her husband, Seth, have been struggling to start their family for years. Doctors, inconclusive testing, and the pain of empty loving arms were taking a toll on their lives and their marriage. When Sallie has an encounter with God, she gives the reins of her life to Him. That's when the Lord sends them down a winding, complicated path toward adoption.

Ellie is a ten-year-old girl who has never known anything but violence and pain. Nothing has ever been permanent in her young life, and she has become withdrawn and aggressive. She is tossed through foster care from home to home until one day, her social worker tells her she is going to be adopted.

Their worlds collide, and in an instant, everything is changed. But how can Seth and Sallie possibly help an angry and out-of-control Ellie overcome the terrors of her past? Love alone will not be enough. There is only one solution--the light always drives out the darkness.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 16, 2023
ISBN9798886169935
God and Good Horses

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    I love this book! It tells a story that made me laugh but also made me cry. Thank you for sharing something that's to hard for others. I pray for a world where people don't have to go through what so many others did and still do.❤️

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God and Good Horses - Sallie Jo Hawken

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God and Good Horses

Sallie Jo Hawken

ISBN 979-8-88616-992-8 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88616-993-5 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Sallie Jo Hawken

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of 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

About the Author

For the children who suffer in silence. For my husband and his limitless faith. For my daughter who had the courage to start her life over again. May it all be for the glory of God.

I've got a long way to go,

But, Lord, I know

There's not a step I'm gonna take

When you're not with me,

By Your grace

I have hope

You've already paid every debt I owe

Please take my chains and make me see,

That by Your grace, I've been set free

—By Your Grace by Cody Johnson

Give me faith like Daniel's

In the lion's den,

Give me hope like Moses

In the wilderness,

Give me a heart like David

Lord, be my defense,

So I can face my giants with confidence

—Confidence by Sanctus Real

Have you given the horse strength?

Have you clothed his neck with thunder?

Can you frighten him with a locust?

His majestic snorting strikes terror.

He paws in the valley and rejoices in his strength;

He gallops into the clash of arms.

He mocks at fear and is not frightened;

Nor does he turn back from the sword

—Job 39:19-22 (NKJ)

Chapter 1

Just Have Faith

I looked at the wooden desk in front of me. The shiny mahogany wood, the round corners, the high-backed black leather chair sitting intimidatingly behind it. I anxiously tapped my fingers on my knee. Doctor's offices have always made me nervous, though I've been in this one so many times you think I'd be used to it by now. My eyes scanned the pictures on the walls as I tried to think about something other than the sound of the pounding of my own heart and the smell that all doctor's offices seem to have.

Many smiling faces looked back at me, family pictures mostly. A father standing behind his son holding a wriggling fish in his hands and beaming proudly at the camera. A man (the doctor) with a rifle slung over his shoulder standing next to a large bull elk that he had just taken. A group of people on a boat, turning red with sunburn and waving little American flags. I'd rather be in any of these places instead of where I am. Again.

I jumped when the door suddenly opened and Dr. Schlik swooped in. Hello, Sallie, he said, settling into the big chair across from me. Sorry to keep you waiting. I have your chart here. It looks like it has only been six months since your last exam. What brings you in today?

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, trying to find the words to talk to this man, who looked like a grandfather with his silver hair and glasses, about our fertility issues.

Well, I was hoping we could do something different before we wait another six months for my next appointment. We've been doing everything we're supposed to do religiously for a year and a half now, and we are still not pregnant. Honestly, my husband and I are frustrated and tired. I was wondering if we could try something else because this doesn't seem to be working.

He looked at my chart over his square glasses and hmmed to himself.

What exactly have you been doing? he asked.

What have we been doing? my mind screamed. You have the chart! We've done everything exactly as you said to!

We've been charting my Basil Body Temperature, and I've been taking the medication and the vitamins. And we've been, um, trying a lot, I answered.

He hmmed again to himself and began scribbling notes on my chart. I stared at him, growing more anxious with every flick of his pen. What could he be writing? After what seemed like an eternity, he looked up at me and removed his glasses.

You're young and healthy. I'll renew your prescription and just keep trying. He shut my file and stood from behind the desk.

What? No! He reached out to shake my hand. I stood, confused and angry.

Wait a minute! It's been a year and a half! And over a year of trying on our own before that! The medication is not working, except to make me feel sick! It's not regulating my cycles. There has to be something else to try. I came here ready for tests or shots or exams or anything! My voice cracked, and hot tears pricked at the backs of my eyes.

He looked at me like he was bored and slightly annoyed. It takes time, everyone is different. Keep doing what you're doing, and I'll see you in six months for your yearly exam. Give this to the lady at the front desk so she can bill you. He handed me my file and left the room.

Disappointment flooded in, drowning the hope I'd had when I entered the office. Hope that Dr. Schlik would have a new idea for us, something that would work this time. Something that would start our family.

Holding back my tears, I went to the lady in the office, signed more paperwork, and paid my bill. The bill for five minutes' worth of conversation and nothing to help me at all. I wanted to wait until I got home to fall apart, but as soon as my truck door closed behind me, the sadness won, and I began to sob right there in the parking lot. Why was this so hard? What was wrong with me that I couldn't get pregnant? Teenagers in the back of cars get pregnant! Drug addicts, alcoholics, people who don't even want kids seem to look at each other and get pregnant, but not me. My body was failing me. I felt helpless and empty.

When I was able to control the sobbing, I drove the fifteen minutes home. When I got there, I sat on the edge of the bed and called my husband, Seth. Hey, he answered, that didn't take very long. How did it go?

Hearing his voice made me start crying all over again. It was a total waste of time. He didn't even talk to me. He just looked at my chart and told me to keep trying. I sniffled.

What? He didn't have anything to say at all? No ideas? Not even a new prescription to try? I could hear the sounds of equipment running in the background where he was.

No, nothing. He acted like I was bothering him, like he was annoyed. He completely dismissed what I was saying.

I'm sorry he wasn't any help. I'm disappointed too. I'll talk to you more tonight. I've got to get back to work. I love you. Just have faith. It will all work out.

Okay, I love you too, I said, clicking off the call. Just have faith. I sat on the edge of the bed, cradling my head in my hands, trying to shut off my running tears. I looked at the stack of books on my nightstand. Books by Christian authors Priscilla Shirer, Joyce Meyer, and Sarah Young. They were books about hope, staying strong in your faith, and knowing God's plan for your life. At the bottom of the stack was my Bible and my prayer journal that I hadn't been able to write in for a long time.

I was suddenly filled with the need to get rid of these books. I opened the bottom drawer on my nightstand and began stuffing them in. I had been using these books to try to make sense of our struggle with infertility. To try to understand why God wouldn't want us to be parents. But at that time, I was sure that it wasn't just the doctor who was dismissing me. I was positive at this point that God was dismissing me too. He either didn't hear our prayers or He didn't care about them, I was sure of it. I was sure He was shutting us out. So I would shut Him out too.

Chapter 2

The Little Girl

The little girl sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, brushing her doll's hair. The doll had long blonde hair, and the girl was envious of it. She tried to run her fingers through her own shoulder-length brown hair, but her fingers stuck in the tangles and pulled hard. She couldn't remember how long ago it had been that she had hidden the hairbrush from her mother, trying to prevent another beating with it. If the girl twisted around just right in front of the mirror, she could still see the bruise on her back where the brush had landed in her mother's fury at her for not sitting still while she tried to brush it. The bruise under her eye had faded to yellow. It had hurt worse when the brush had struck her there.

Footsteps outside her door made the girl freeze in her brushing and her heart start to race. She thought about crawling under the bed, but it was too late. He was already there in her doorway, looking at her. Her large brown eyes looked up at him from under her long lashes. He was smiling, a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his bare hairless chest made her uncomfortable. He had his thumb hooked in his jeans pocket, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. His dark hair was disheveled, his face unshaven.

He kneeled down in front of her and took the doll from her small hands. The smell of smoke and body odor made the girl want to scurry away from him across the floor, but she knew she didn't dare. It would be worse if she did. Now, Ellie, you're five years old. That's getting too old for dollies and toys. He exhaled smoke as he spoke. Maybe she could dive past him into the hall, but she knew even if that worked that he would come looking for her. You know what you're old enough for, Ellie? To be my girlfriend. He set the beer bottle on the floor and hooked his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. What do you think about that? Would you like to be my girlfriend?

She fought the panic that was rising in her chest. If she started to cry, he'd get angry, and when he was angry, he liked to hit.

No, she whispered, Mommy's your girlfriend.

His smile wavered a little, and something dangerous flashed behind his eyes. He took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke in her face.

I can have you as my girlfriend, too, if I want. I can do anything I want because who's going to stop me? You? Your mother?

Tears began to sneak out of the corners of her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished more than anything that he would go away.

Look at me! he yelled. I'm tired of your games! He raised his hand and backhanded her across the face. She landed hard on the floor on her side, stars filling her vision. A scream escaped her, and she began to cry. The man stood over her, yelling things she couldn't understand. She pulled her knees to her chest in hopes that she could deflect some of his blows.

Willow, a small woman with caramel-colored skin and black hair that just grazed her shoulders, appeared in the doorway behind the man. He turned and began yelling at her. Ellie dragged herself to her feet and tried to clear the tears from her eyes. Blood poured from her lip where he had struck her. She hoped that maybe her mother would take her side for once and stop the man from bothering her ever again.

Her mother shouldered past the man into the room, and Ellie knew that this would be like all of the other times. Her mother wasn't going to help her. Willow's eyes were black and wild, the way they got when she had been sticking the needles in her arms. The small girl tried to shrink against the wall, but she couldn't escape her mother's charge. How could you do this to me? Willow shrieked. How could you? He's my boyfriend! Get your own!

Ellie braced herself for the next blow to her body but instead heard the sound of her older brother's voice. Mom! Stop! Stop, it's not her fault! It's Wesley's fault! Her nine-year-old brother, Clay, had shoved his way into the room and now stood between Ellie and their raging mother. Willow lowered her raised arm, confused by this interference. Her glassy hate-filled eyes flickered from her son to her daughter as she tried to decide what the truth was. Finally, she turned her drugged-up anger on the man, Wesley. She shoved him hard, out into the hallway, and they began screaming at each other. There was a loud crash, and something shattered on the floor.

Clay grabbed Ellie's hand and pulled her toward the window. This was a well-used escape route when things turned too ugly in the house. Both of the kids knew where this fight was going to go. He slid the window open. There was no screen, so he held Ellie's hand and helped her drop to the ground outside. He disappeared back inside, and she waited, the sharp taste of blood filling her mouth from her still bleeding lip. A moment later, he reappeared and handed their one-year-old baby brother, Tuck, out the window to her. Then he jumped out himself, pausing only to slide the window shut again.

The kids ran around the trailer house to an abandoned car resting in the dirt with no tires and no windows. Clay jumped onto the hood and took the crying baby from her arms so she could follow him. They made it to the roof of the car where a broken pallet was leaned against the wall of the trailer. Ellie scrambled up the pallet onto the roof of the house, turned, and took the baby so her big brother could follow. Then they worked together, Ellie holding the baby with one arm to pull the pallet onto the roof with them.

They crab-walked to the middle of the roof and sat, huddled together. Clay wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she cradled Tuck on her lap and tried to shush his crying. A moment later, they heard the door bang open, and the yelling was outside, circling the trailer to below where they sat. Willow was now below them on the ground, barefoot, wearing sagging black sweatpants and a too big men's flannel shirt and waving a butcher knife in the air. I'll kill you all! she screamed. You ruined my life! It's your fault!

Wesley appeared next to her. Ellie couldn't understand what he was saying, only that it seemed to be having a calming effect on her mother. Eventually, she handed the knife to Wesley and allowed herself to be led, childlike, back into the house.

The wind whipped at the kids' hair and clothing. Dark clouds were overhead; rain was coming. Ellie soothed the baby until he stopped crying and slept in her arms. It's okay, Clay reassured her. You know how she gets when she's got meth in her. She'll pass out, and then we can go back in. She'll sleep it off and be better tomorrow.

Ellie shivered, and her stomach growled. She tried to distract herself from her discomfort by studying the birds in the tree next to the house. They chirped to one another and hopped up and down the branches. Then, suddenly, as one and for seemingly no reason, they all took flight in a sudden rush of beating wings.

She watched them fly into the sky, darting this way and that, still chirping frantically to one another. She watched them until the last one became a small dot in the grey sky and then disappeared. How nice it would be, she thought, to be able to grow wings and fly away from this place and never look back.

Chapter 3

Finding Hope

He didn't run one single test before giving you a prescription? Dr. Lincoln asked me, confused. It had been three weeks since I had sat in Dr. Schlik's office, asking for help and getting none in return. Dr. Lincoln was the new doctor Seth and I had chosen. I had already gone through a physical exam, and we were now going over my chart in her office. I explained to her what we had gone through already.

I went off of birth control when we were ready to start trying, but my periods became really erratic. I might have one that lasts for two weeks and then not have another one for three months. After over a year of trying on our own with no success, we went to Dr. Schlik for help. That's when he put me on a prescription and told me to start charting. But it never did fix my cycles, and I obviously never got pregnant. He didn't seem to take my concerns seriously, and I just need something to change. I was embarrassed to be sharing all of this with her but had resolved before going in that I had to be absolutely honest about everything.

She shook her head for about the twentieth time and scribbled in my chart. There are so many tests we can run to pinpoint what's going on. She sighed. I can't believe the stress you and your husband must've been under, and stress only makes these types of situations worse. Is it taking a toll on your marriage at all?

That question caught me off guard. It's horrible, I thought. The fights caused by frustration and heartache. The times we almost called it quits because it was too heavy a burden to carry any more. The pain that made us question whether we were really supposed to be together or not. The hope brought by a late period and the misery brought by another negative pregnancy test. Turning on the TV and not being able to find one show without babies in it. Scrolling through all my friends' baby posts on Facebook and telling myself to be happy for them, even though I wanted to know why they get two or three or four babies and we don't have even one. I held all of that inside and simply answered, It's been tough, but we're powering on.

She smiled and scribbled, scribbled, scribbled.

Well, I say we do every test we can, leave no stone unturned. But there are a whole lot of them, so it's up to you if you want to split them into two days or even three. Or if you're really tough, you can do them all in one. Either way, I want to get going on this right away.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She heard what I was telling her and was willing to do something about it. I couldn't help but return her smile.

I'm tough. Let's do them all in one day. As much as I hated doctors, I wanted to get going in a new direction as soon as possible.

Okay, I'll get them scheduled for three days from now, and we can get started.

I couldn't believe the different experience I was having with Dr Lincoln. She was friendly and warm and cared about what was going on. I made happy small talk with the lady in the office as I signed what I had to sign and got the papers with the info for the tests.

When I got in my truck, I didn't feel the urge to cry. I wasn't overwhelmed or worried. I was surprised to discover that I was actually happy and hopeful. Finally, we were going to get some answers, and just maybe we would finally start our family.

*****

I pushed a heavy cart loaded with bags of grain from the backroom onto the sales floor. It was delivery day at the feed and ranch supply store I worked at as a team leader, and that meant for a select group of us that our day started at 5:00 a.m. to move merchandise onto the floor before the store opened.

I didn't mind the early mornings. It was dark, quiet, and peaceful. Plus it was a joke between the employees that you didn't really know another person until you'd been with them in the early morning hours.

I had only been working at the store for a couple of months and had yet to get to know anyone very well. I was moving the fifty-pound bags of grain to where they belonged on the floor when Katie, the assistant manager, suddenly appeared at my side. She had a habit of popping up silently and unexpectedly. Katie, forty with short dirty blonde hair, glasses, and a positive attitude that was infectious, was looking at her phone.

Do you know anything about Pandora? she asked. I need to get my worship on, and Pandora is so not being my friend this morning.

Sorry, I don't have a clue about Pandora, I answered.

Darn it, I really need to hear that one song, what's it called? You know the one by those guys who sing ‘God's Not Dead'? Or maybe they don't sing that one but it goes something like this… She hummed out the rhythm to the song. Oh, well, I guess I don't need to listen to it right now. She stuffed her phone in her pocket and grabbed a bag of grain. So I don't know anything about you other than that you work like a dog and customers love you and you have a big pretty smile. Tell me about yourself. She changed the subject so fast I almost didn't realize what she had said.

Oh, well, I'm married. We've been married for four years. He's a welder for the bentonite mine.

Awesome! What's your sweetheart's name? she asked.

His name is Seth.

Before I could say anything else, she was asking another question. And any kids?

I felt that familiar pang in my chest but ignored it.No kids. Not yet.

Nothing wrong with that. I have two girls, and let me tell you, they are really something. She told me all about her daughters and her husband and their life with big exaggerated gestures and facial expressions, and soon I was laughing and chatting along with her. Katie was one of the least shy people I had ever met. She wasn't afraid to tell you any intimate personal details of her life, and she wasn't afraid to ask you about your life either. She was like a one-woman hurricane of laughter, sunshine, and dirty jokes.

She helped me unload my cart and then she took off as suddenly as she had appeared, asking another employee about her Pandora. I pushed my cart to the backroom. I saw Leah, the twenty-something-year-old woman in charge of shipping and receiving, sorting small items into separate carts. She had her earbuds in and looked intent on her work, so I pushed my cart to a pallet of feed and began loading what I needed.

Focused on my own work, I didn't hear anyone walk up behind me until I heard a sharp, Hey, and I jumped like a deer. I turned to see Leah, twin black braids hanging over her shoulders and piercing dark eyes, standing directly behind me, her earbuds dangling from one ear.

Geez! You guys sure walk quiet around this place, I joked, smiling at her.

She didn't return the smile, just looked at me with an intimidating stare. What time are you off today? she asked.

I told her I got off at noon.

Me too. You like the Cheese Barrel?

I told her that I did.

Good, let's have lunch there. With that, she stuck her earbuds back in and walked off.

She's a little intense, I thought. But lunch sounds good.

At noon, Leah and I took her white Chevy Avalanche to the Cheese Barrel, a mom-and-pop restaurant known for their homemade soups and bread bowls. Leah and I each ordered the cheesy cauliflower soup and a Dr. Pepper. If Katie was a hurricane of sunshine, Leah was a tornado of wild color and attitude. Her black t-shirt offset the colorful tattoos up and down her arms, and her piercing eyes and level stare gave you the impression that she just might kick your butt if you gave her reason to. I didn't know what to say to her but thankfully didn't have to think too much about it.

So I looked you up on Facebook, she said, pulling her phone out and showing me my own profile. Married four years, no kids, you're a photographer, and you rodeo. That's cool. I used to rodeo. I'm not married, have a boyfriend, we live together. I have a dog, Malachi. Isn't he cute? She held her phone out so I could see a picture of a black super-wrinkly dog with a squashed-in face and drool dripping from his jowls. That was a lot of information before we even got our drinks.

She said, Four years is a long time. Why don't you have any kids yet? What are you waiting for?

I was a bit taken back by her directness, but she was watching me from across the table with an expression that demanded an answer.

We'll have kids someday. It'll happen when it's supposed to. I gave my standard answer for people who asked why we didn't hear the ticking clock of parenthood. Her dark eyes were still fixed on me, her expression unchanging.

What does that mean? You can't have kids or what?

I was stunned to silence. I just sat there, thinking, What, is this written on my forehead or something?

Well, we…we just…it hasn't happened yet for us. They haven't found a reason why I can't seem to get pregnant, but there's still hope. I tried to sound nonchalant, but I didn't mean to say that last part and was wishing I could take it back. Why had I blurted that out to this girl I barely knew?

She didn't say anything for a minute. Suddenly, her expression softened, and she said, A year ago, they found something that they thought might be cancerous, so they removed part of my cervix. It wasn't cancer, but they told me that there's a really good chance that I can never carry a baby to full term or even long enough that it could be born premature. I might never have a baby either.

I was shocked and didn't know how to respond.

If you ever want to talk about it, you can talk to me, she said. I get it.

You can talk to me too, I told her. The ice was officially broken, and we began to freely talk about anything and everything. It felt like we had been friends for a very long time. Inside Leah's tornado was a good heart and caring person.

I went home feeling like I had found two unexpected new friends. I hadn't told either one about the battery of tests that had been run the week before or that I was anxiously waiting to hear about the results. I went into the bedroom to change my clothes and go exercise my horses. I emptied my pockets onto my nightstand, and something seemed to stop me from walking away.

I opened the drawer with all of my books crowded into it. On top of the stack was a pretty purple and silver daily devotional called Jesus Today by Sarah Young. I took this one book out only because it was on top and set it on my nightstand. I didn't know if it was the combination of Leah and Katie and the two big bowls of soup I had eaten or what it was for sure, but in that moment, I was feeling hopeful again. I felt like Dr. Lincoln would find what was wrong and she would help to fix it. And then we could start our family. Things were starting to look up. Things would get better.

Chapter 4

Alone

Ellie couldn't remember how many days it had been since her mother and Wesley had left them in the house. Willow had given them instructions to not go outside until she came back. Ellie thought hard. For three days and two nights, the three kids had been alone. They had huddled on the living room floor together after the sun went down each day, next to the black heater that plugged into the wall. There was little heat that came out of it, but it was better than nothing. It was the only heat in the house since the furnace had stopped working a year ago.

She ripped open the package of ramen noodles and dumped the contents into a frying pan, the only pan they had. Water hadn't run from the faucets in a while, so she opened the fridge and stood on her tiptoes to reach the jug of water. She poured just enough into the pan to cover the noodles and stood on a stool to turn the burner on.

Her brothers were on the living room floor under blankets, next to the heater watching, an episode of Scooby Doo they had on DVD. Ellie went to the heater to warm her hands. She could smell something foul coming from Tuck's diaper, so she lifted him into her arms and carried him into the room that the two boys shared. She laid Tuck on the floor and found a diaper in a dresser drawer along with a package of baby wipes.

She was used to the task of changing his diapers, so while she worked, she looked around the room. Of the two small bedrooms, she thought she was luckier than the boys. The carpet in her room had been ripped up long ago, so she had to walk on the plywood underneath, but she thought that was still better than the boys' room because at least she had glass in her window. The boys' window had been broken when two men had been arguing in their house, and one had drawn a gun on the other. He had missed, but his bullet had shattered the lower half of the window. Now all that stood between them and the cold wind outside was a red blanket duct-taped to the wall to cover the opening.

The closet door was missing, broken off of the hinges a long time ago. There was a skull and crossbones spray painted on one of the walls with black paint. The rest of the walls were bare. Her own room was the same size, but she was grateful that she still had a closet door or she wouldn't have any place to hide things. The only thing on her blank walls was a Tinkerbell poster that her mother had bought for her in a gas station in a rare moment of kindness.

She finished her task and went about looking for a clean shirt for Tuck. All of the onesies in the dresser drawer were too small for him, but everything else was too big. She settled on a green Ninja Turtles t-shirt that was so big on him that it covered his arms like long sleeves and hung down to his chubby pink feet. She thought this was a good choice because he would be comfortable, and maybe it would keep him warmer at night.

Satisfied, she carried the baby back to Clay and went to check how dinner was coming. The water was just beginning to bubble, so she used a fork to break the brick of noodles apart. She didn't like it when the water got too hot, so she dumped the seasoning packet in and stirred until it dissolved. Then she turned the heat off and dumped her soup into a plastic bowl. She stuck a plastic fork in the noodles and went to the fridge to grab a bottle of PediaSure.

Ellie took note of the contents of the fridge. Less than half of the gallon of water remained, two bottles of PediaSure, a brown paper bag that smelled weird and she was afraid to open, a full case of beer, and a brown banana. She knew in the cupboards there was a third of a box of cereal, a box of macaroni and cheese, and the last package of ramen noodles. In her room, hidden in her secret place, was a granola bar and a chocolate pudding cup. She hoped her mother would come home soon.

She joined her brothers on the floor under the blankets. They passed the bowl back and forth, taking turns blowing on the noodles and cutting them into pieces for Tuck. When the bowl was empty, they shared the PediaSure. When all the food was gone, Ellie went to the kitchen and used a dirty washcloth to wipe the bowl, fork, and frying pan off and put them back in the cupboard. Her stomach rumbled, still hungry, but they needed the rest of the food to last until someone came back. Maybe even longer than that.

Ellie wrapped herself and her doll in blankets on the floor next to her brothers. She glanced over at Clay. He was resting his back against the couch, cradling Tuck's small head in his lap. The siblings shared the same dark hair and eyes and tanned skin. The glow of the TV cast a blue shadow on Clay's face, making him seem otherworldly to Ellie.

Clay? she whispered so as not to disturb Tuck whose eyes were almost closed. He looked at her but didn't say anything. How much longer do you think it will be before they come back? she asked.

Clay tugged at the corner of the old blanket he had laid beneath them on the floor as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. Several seconds went by before Ellie gently spoke again, Clay? What if they don't come back at all this time?

Without looking at her, he answered, If they don't come back, we'll leave. We'll go somewhere warm where it never gets cold, and we'll eat all we want and sleep all we want and play games every day.

Ellie doubted what Clay told her was true, but she snuggled down into her scratchy blanket and tried to picture a paradise place like Clay had described. A place where there was always warm sunshine and blue skies and clear pools of cool water to swim in. She had a hard time picturing it.

Instead, she tried to imagine a place where the refrigerator was full of good food, and there was a cookie jar on the counter, always full of chocolate chip cookies; a place where she could fill the bathtub with bubbles and toys and submerge herself in the hot water; a place where her bedroom had carpet and her mom kissed her goodnight every night at bedtime before tucking her in and telling her how much she loved her. She had a hard time picturing it. She fixed her eyes on the flickering TV screen and tried to drown out her worries while Scooby and Shaggy solved mysteries. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.

*****

The kids were blinded when the dark room was flooded with light. Cold air whipped in through the open door, and loud voices boomed all around them. Ellie was startled and confused. Clay kicked her hard in the side in his effort to untangle himself from the blankets and stand up. Tuck was crying, and Ellie scrambled to get herself up and over to him. Finally, her eyes adjusted to the light. She saw Willow and Wesley along with a large group of people, mostly men but some women, too, crowded into their kitchen and around the table.

Tuck wouldn't stop crying, even after Ellie picked him up and wrapped him in his small blanket. She tried to soothe him by bouncing him up and down gently, but he just wouldn't stop. Her mother trained her eyes on the kids, staring hard as if they were a long distance away from her. Then she started toward them, arms outstretched.

My baby, my poor baby, she cooed, taking Tuck from Ellie. He's missed his mommy, haven't you? Yes, you have.

Tuck's crying increased, and he reached a tiny arm out toward Ellie. Ellie dared not move to take him back. Willow wasn't wearing a shirt, even though there was snow on the ground. She stood there in a faded black sports bra and sweatpants that hung off her hips and had dirty yellow flip-flops on her feet. Her hair that had been black the last time Ellie had seen her was now an off shade of yellow orange and stuck out from her head at odd angles in greasy clumps. Ellie wondered what she had used to cut it while she was gone. It looked like it had been cut by a toddler with a pair of scissors.

Tuck began to scream and kick his feet, his face turning red and tears streaking his cheeks. Ellie's mother shushed him. When that proved useless, she began to get angry. Shush, baby, shhh. Stop crying now, I'm here. I'm here, stop crying. Stop crying! I said stop! Her voice was getting louder and agitated. and Ellie began to panic.

Wesley called Clay's name from where he sat at the kitchen table. Clay went to the man, his face expressionless. He stopped. just out of arms reach. Wesley cracked the top on a can of beer, spraying foam into the air, and handed it in Clay's direction.

Take it, boy. Have a drink, become a man tonight, he coaxed.

Clay took the can, his face still blank, but didn't put it to his lips. Ellie tried to keep her eyes on both Clay and Tuck who was dangerously close to pushing their mother over the edge. Willow's eyes were cold and emotionless as she tightened her grip on the baby and began to shake him, which only caused him to cry more.

Too good to drink with us, son? Wesley taunted. You want to shoot up instead?

The men around the table laughed. Some taunted Clay too. Clay stayed still, his eyes looking down at the can in his hand. Ellie could see that Wesley was about to blow, and she didn't know what to do. She wished she was as brave as Clay was. Tuck's cries grew louder as Willow began to savagely shake him and yell in his face to stop crying.

Ellie felt her arm reaching out as if it had a mind of its own and touched her mother's side. Mommy, I'll take him. Please, Mommy, can I hold him? Please? she pleaded.

Her mother half-handed, half-dropped Tuck into her arms and stomped into the kitchen, complaining to another woman about ungrateful children.

Ellie couldn't believe that had worked, but she was glad that it did. Tuck was sniffling now, his small fist gripped onto her shirt and his red face resting on her shoulder. She was afraid that there was nothing she could do to help Clay. She knew Wesley's patience wouldn't last long.

Wesley reached out and grabbed Clay by the arm, pulling the boy to him. Have a drink, son, be a man, he crowed.

Clay, keeping his eyes turned down, said quietly but defiantly, I'm not your son.

The men around the table roared with laughter. One slapped Clay on the back, spilling the beer he held all over the floor.

Wesley's eyes narrowed, and his face turned red and then almost purple. Ellie didn't know what to do. If she intervened, she and Tuck would be at the mercy of Wesley and maybe these other men. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched Wesley grip Clay around the shoulders. Holding the boy's back to his chest, he smashed the can into Clay's lips, trying to force him to drink it but mostly spilling it all down the front of his shirt.

When the can was empty, Wesley let go, and Clay fell to the floor, coughing for air. The men laughed as Clay scrambled to his feet and hurried into the living room. Ellie saw her mother leaned over the kitchen sink, arm outstretched, a band tied around her bicep while another woman stuck a needle in her arm. When Clay reached them, they both turned and rushed down the hall toward Ellie's room. Heavy footsteps loomed close behind them, but neither turned to see who it was.

They had barely cleared the doorway when the door was slammed shut behind them by whoever had been following them. A moment later, the house was filled with heavy metal music so loud the glass in Ellie's window rattled. Ellie looked at Clay whose face was still blank. His eyes were filled with tears that he refused to let loose. She set Tuck on her bed and dug in her closet until she found a shirt big enough to fit Clay. It was purple, but she thought he wouldn't mind.

Clay changed his shirt without speaking, and he and Ellie situated the three of them on the bare mattress under some blankets. They only had one pillow which they laid Tuck on so he could have more cushion. The sour smell of beer was strong, and the music hurt Ellie's ears. There would be no going back to sleep now. Ellie wished the sun would hurry up and rise so at least they wouldn't be in the dark. She decided they would share the granola bar for breakfast and the pudding for lunch.

She heard Clay sniffle softly, finally letting go and crying into his blanket. She reached out from under her own blanket and found his hand. Alone was better, she thought. How could I have wished for them to come home? Now I wish for them to leave. I hate Wesley. Alone was better.

Chapter 5

A New Direction

I pulled the cinch tight on my saddle, put my foot in the stirrup, and swung onto the back of my quarter horse gelding, Billy. Billy shook his head and pulled on the reins, eager to get going. I rode him away from the barn, across a small bridge, and out into the prairie. It was a perfect Wyoming day. Cotton candy clouds floated across the endless blue sky. The spring rain was turning the pasture from brown to brilliant green. A western meadowlark sang its cheery song. The smell of sage floated on the air. The sunshine bounced off of Billy's blue roan coat, his black winter hair all shed out for another season.

I am never more at home than when I am on the back of a horse, probably because I was on horseback before I could walk. Nothing works like taking a good horse out to clear my head and put things in perspective.

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