Black Mountain Domino
Copyright © 2004 Pam McDermott
Smashwords Edition
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Chapter 1
Jennifer Brennan was twelve years old. Life on her parent’s ranch was an exciting existence for a young girl who loved horses. She was allowed a lot of freedom, as her parents believed she was mature for her age. Jennifer had a sense of responsibility that most twelve year olds didn’t possess.
She was a slim, dark-haired girl. Though some people thought her quiet and shy, she had the courage of her mother’s Irish ancestors and a great sense of humor. Her laughter, at the antics of a new litter of kittens, could be heard in the kitchen where her mother was busy baking bread.
Jennifer’s dad had taught her, not only to ride a horse, but how to take good care of a horse. He stressed that “horses will take care of you if you take care of them”. Mr. Brennan, or Steve, was like a character out of a Louis L’Amour western. He could dress up in town finery but could never be mistaken for anyone but a cattle rancher. A cowboy hat was stuck permanently on his head, and beneath it was a sun-beaten face. It was a face of strength and character mixed with kindness and gentleness. Its wrinkles were those of laughter, sadness, wisdom, and caring. He was a man with close friends and few enemies.
Steve’s wife and Jennifer’s mother, Amanda, was a fun-loving homebody. In her role as ranch wife, she was capable. Many a time she had helped pull a calf or sit up with a colicy horse. Yet, she was happiest taking care of her family, home, and garden. Get-togethers with neighboring ranch families were an adventure for her, as she planned games for the children and comforts for the older ones. As much a cook as most ranch wives, she experimented with fresh herbs and other produce of her garden. Steve and daughter Jennifer adored her for her undying patience with them and her fun-loving Irish spirit.
Oak Tree Ranch, south of Santa Margarita, was home to many horses, cattle, and of course, two or three dogs. A large cat, TC, lived in the barn. TC had been delivered with the mail a year or so back. To be more accurate, the rural mail carrier had seen the bedraggled kitten and decided to hand-deliver it to Jennifer. Evidently he had been dumped on the side of the road. TC stood for "Top Cat" and he surely thought he was. He kept the mice in the hay barn well under control, yet demanded a quite regular feeding schedule from Jennifer.
The ranch had been in the Brennan family for almost fifty years, bought by Steve’s wealthy parents as an investment. Never in their worst nightmares did they feature their son wanting to grow up to ranch in this rural California area. They had been professionals in their separate careers, Mr. Brennan, an oil man and Mrs. Brennan, a pharmacist. The 4,000 acre ranch was bought as a retreat from their busy careers, but mainly to invest money that they needed to diversify.
Steve, the youngest of six children, had taken to the ranch at first encounter like an orphan calf to a nurse cow. It was love at first sight. After that he waited longingly for the vacation trips to the ranch, and when he was old enough, to spend summers there with the ranch foreman’s family. The foreman taught him how to work and to be skilled in his daily ranch chores. Later, he went off to a four year college to major in animal science, of all things. And there he met Amanda, majoring in ag business. His parents wondered how on earth they could have produced such a child, but heartily gave him their blessings to marry. He got a job as ranch foreman elsewhere but he and Amanda were back at home at the Oak Tree Ranch when Jennifer was born. The elder Brennans had passed away and left the ranch to Steve. His siblings inherited companies, stocks, bonds, and homes, but he was the richest of all; his heart was safely home at the Oak Tree Ranch with his family.
Steve and Amanda started out with crossbred cattle, but slowly changed over to purebred Limousins, native to France. They were producers of lean meat, and had good temperments to be around.
For horses, they chose Morgans. That breed had been used a lot in the coastal area in the past, at the William. Randolph Hearst ranch, and the Jack ranch, and even on the Ranchita, in nearby Arroyo Grande, for a number of years. Steve had grown up with a little bay Morgan mare that had literally taught him how to cut and sort cattle in a corral, as well as to gather cattle off the rough mountain ranges. Since moving back to the ranch they had acquired a band of good Morgan mares, but had only leased a stallion so far.
The Brennans had searched for a stallion to head their broodmare band. They had written to Morgan farms, gone to see Morgans, and it was finally back east where they had found what they were looking for. A stallion named Domino.
Domino was a truly beautiful blood-bay with no white markings. He was an animal of extreme presence; a natural show horse.
He was also an athlete, displaying balance and agility. Domino had a very masculine head; heavy jowl, small muzzle with large nostrils, and finely-chiseled ears. His eyes showed a docile disposition. Also, he was extremely intelligent. It took only one glance to see that.
As soon as he was unloaded from the horse van, Jennifer fell in love with him. She whistled and his ears came up and his eyes sought her out. He snorted at her. She went to him and without even on bit of fear laid her face against his. It was love at first sight for both of them.
The Brennans hoped to raise horses that could survive in the rugged terrain where they lived. They wanted their horses to have even temperments so they would be a joy to work with. All their hopes and dreams rested on Domino, and they were well-founded.
He was a sensible horse, yet he had all the heart any cowboy needed in a working cowhorse.
In no time, Domino had become almost a pet to the whole family. They loved to watch him move as he did, lightly yet so quick on his feet when working cattle. Domino could work cattle all day, then return home fresh as a daisy.
Jennifer knew he would always answer to her whistle. In the evening she’d slip out to the barn with a pocketful of carrots from the kitchen for him. He’d look forward to her arrival and would snuffle her pockets until, with a laugh of delight, she’d give them to him.
Then he would crunch contentedly while Jennifer played with his foretop. He would look at her with his liquid brown eyes as though to verify a special bond between them. She loved him and he could sense that.
Having no brothers or sisters to play with, Jennifer and Domino became close companions. Her dog, Shep, usually accompanied her to the barn or corral. Shep knew Jennifer loved him, but not like she loved the stallion. Shep was old and he was content being second in Jennifer’s heart.
There were times when Jennifer’s dad would let her ride Domino.
Those were special times. He seemed to realize the youth and relative inexperience of his young mistress and could be depended on to be well-mannered.
As Jennifer’s mother and dad watched the young girl on the horse, they felt a thrill of pleasure at the picture they made. Domino would walk slowly, then break into an easy jog. The young girl would urge him on and the two of them would finally be flying down the dirt roads between the fields.
Jennifer’s long hair streamed out behind her and she laughed in youthful glee. Eyes were bright with excitement and her face was flushed as she and Domino returned to the barn.
Then she would help her dad take care of Domino’s unsaddling.
Finally, she would curry him with hands that were soft, gentle, and full of love.
Everything changed when Jennifer’s dad hired Cyril Ames. Unbeknownst to Steve Brennan, Cyril had become a drunk.
Years before, Cyril had made quite a name for himself among the top bridlehorse men in the country. He’d trained and shown cowhorses that would long be remembered among horsemen. Something had happened to him though, something he wouldn’t share with anyone.
He seemed to have given up.
It began to show with the horses he rode. At first he just seemed to have slowed down; no more victorious show wins or long campaign seasons. With that, he began to lose clients. As time went on, his ability to train seemed to vanish altogether. He spent more time at local bars and less at his job.
Finally the day came when he could no longer train; no one would hire him. He could only get on as a stud manager. One such job was on the old Oak Tree Ranch. He applied for the position and was consequently hired. He would be in charge of the daily care and oversight of their band of twenty Morgans.
Cyril convinced Jennifer’s dad, Steve, that children shouldn’t be around breeding stallions. Though Jennifer begged and pleaded, her dad felt Cyril was the one who knew best. After all, he had quite a reputation as a great trainer. His new reputation as a drunk hadn’t yet caught up with him in this region of the country.
The new stud manager, Cyril, isolated the stallion and set to work teaching him what Cyril considered proper discipline for a stallion.
Domino no longer lived in comfort and tranquility, but with constant tension and rough handling. He couldn’t understand why Jennifer had deserted him. If now he saw her in the distance or heard her voice, he would nicker and paw. Cyril soon put a stop to that! Jennifer often cried about not being able to be close to Domino, but she was an obedient child and she knew that life on the ranch wasn’t always easy. Her dad explained that the breeding of mares had to come first. Of course, her mother, Amanda, tried to comfort her as best as she could. Even old Shep walked a little closer to her.
She was allowed to ride an older mare, but it wasn’t exciting like it had been with domino. She hoped it would change and things would be like they were before.
As for Domino, his breed was not that of a cold-blooded carthorse that would take abuse, but he was from foundation Morgan Stock. He would work his heart out under proper treatment, but he wasn’t getting it. As time went on he’d snap at the men around the barn, even threatening to kick. When Cyril would return home drunk after a day off or a night in town, he would often forget to feed and bed down Domino.
Sometimes when the Brennans were away for a few days and the cowboys were also away from the ranch headquarters, Cyril would take Domino for a ride. It was never for any good purpose though, but only to assert his authority. Cyril had grown hard and uncaring.
He had lost the love he once had for all horses. The people he had worked for years before wouldn’t have recognized the hardbitten person he had become. Where once he sought out the company of other horsemen, now he wanted only to be left alone. Alone with his unhappiness and his alcohol.
He began to turn Domino into a nervous, contentious animal.
No longer was Domino the friend and companion Jennifer loved, but a tense, temperamental stallion. One who was alert when any man came near him.
One night when the Brennans were gone to a livestock seminar, Cyril again had his chance. The cowboys were all in town for a dance. It was July, so it wouldn’t be dark for quite a few hours.
He saddled up Domino, and buckling on his spurs and grabbing an old rawhide quirt, he led the horse out of the barn. Cyril was at a disadvantage this time. Not only was he drunk, but Domino was upset because his mares had been moved to a distant pasture earlier in the day. It was a bad combination, making a day to be long remembered.
Cyril managed to get Domino headed out through the gate, but he lacked his usual brutish control. As horse and rider neared the trail leading off towards the mare’s new pasture, Domino began to act up. Cyril persisted though and Domino was finally distracted enough to take the other trail; it led onto the Los Padres National Forest.
On and on they went, horse and rider not riding companionably, but fighting each other, each trying to gain domination. Cyril had never been so obsessed. He had a flask of whiskey that was keeping him in a bad temper and all he could think of was proving he was boss.
Then, as they cleared the top of Branch Mountain, a good five miles from home, they came upon an unexpected sight. Directly below them was a small band of wild horses. Cyril, in his drunken state, couldn’t begin to comprehend the predicament that put him in.
Domino announced his presence to the band and wheeled to move in closer. Cyril attempted to control the stallion but it was too late. With his whiskey flask in one hand as a definite handicap, Cyril didn’t stand a chance. Domino hurled himself through trees and brush, closing the gap between himself and the wild horses.
The first tree Domino flew under caught Cyril unprepared and snatched him from the saddle like a sack of potatoes.
By the time he caught his breath and was able to pick himself up, the horses, including Domino, were gone.
Cyril sat down and drank the rest of the whiskey in his flask. He cussed the horse, never facing up to the fact that he had caused his own problems. Drunkenly he followed the trail back toward the ranch. He slept by a tree for a while. He woke cold and confused.
Cyril knew he had to return to the ranch and face the music. Sullen and alone, he continued on the trail.
Some cowboys from the ranch met up with him on the trail and returned him to the ranch.
Jennifer couldn’t believe Domino was gone. In tears she faced her father.
“We have to find him, Dad. We have to! I can’t live without him.” Facing Cyril she shouted, “I hate you! You’ve been mean to him and that’s why he ran away.” In tears she escaped to the kitchen, wanting her mother to comfort her.
Steve Brennan watched his daughter go. He didn’t feel that he should have her apologize to Cyril. What she had said was only too true. Now that it was too late, he could see what Cyril had become. He ordered him to collect his things and leave. Someone would take him to town. His saddle would be returned to him, if it was ever recovered. Steve turned away from Cyril, filled with disgust that he had been fooled and had hired such a man.
An immediate search was begun for Domino, but it was futile. The National Forest behind Oak Tree Ranch ran the length of the state, with a lot of terrain almost impenetrable, except on foot or horseback. The men from the ranch did their best, but it was impossible for them to spend enough time to find the stallion.
Jennifer was inconsolable. She moped around the house for days. A new stallion was brought to the ranch, but she showed no interest in even seeing him.
With her dog, Shep, she would climb up on the hill behind the house and scan the fields for a sight of Domino. Sometimes she rode her mare out into the fields and, stopping at various points, would whistle for Domino.
All was silent. Under sunny blue skies the young girl would bow her head and let the tears fall. On the way home she would hope that maybe tomorrow he would come back or that someone would find him. At night, alone in her bed she’d whisper, “Please come home Domino. I love you so.”
As time went on, reports came back to the Brennans of hunters or hikers sighting Domino on different ranges, but no one was able to get near him. Cyril’s saddle was recovered and returned to him, but the bridle was never found. A large reward had been put out by the Brennans in hopes that someone would find and return their beloved Domino.
Jennifer never gave up hope that Domino would someday return. She would anxiously listen to all reports of men sighting him, but as time passed, news of him came less and less frequently.
Chapter 2
THE WILD STALLION
Jennifer and her dad searched for Domino whenever they could.
Instead of looking forward to the entertainment normal for her age, Jennifer anxiously waited for school holidays to scout different ranges in the National Forest. Ever hopeful, she planned each outing as if it would mean seeing Domino and bringing him back into her life.
During Spring Break, her friends in town planned a trip to Disneyland. Jennifer spent it in Hi Mountain Valley, looking for sign of the wild band she heard was travelling through. All she found was old sign, but didn’t give up. She and her dad just dug in with true determination and began planning a trip to Machesna; another mountainous area in the Forest.
While they searched, Domino was becoming a wild stallion.
His breeding and intelligence gave him an edge over all opponents. Whether they were other stallions, predators, or men, he learned to outwit them all.
He took good care of his mares, trying always to move them to rich pasture-ground, close to clear spring water. His band of mares was wary of any mountain lions or coyotes approaching and were staunch defenders of their offspring. An occasional bear would send the band on the run, due to the bear’s menacing countenance and overwhelming smell, but they were basically harmless.
Men were a different story though. The mares were petrified of them, but not so with Domino. Where he had once had an intense devotion toward man, now he felt only distrust.
About three years had gone by since Domino joined the wild horses and established a band of his own. Now a group of men were planning an elaborate scheme to catch him. He and his mares had been grazing on a certain range for several months and these men had taken the time to study his pattern of travel and habits. They knew of the reward the Brennans offered and they wanted it.
Those men spent three weeks preparing for their horse chase, and constructing a camouflaged catchpen. It was made from the native chemise and lilac brush, cut and meshed together into an impervious fence, held together and upright with oaktrees and cut saplings. They had long, wide-spreading wings made the same way, forming a funnel. This funnel would guide the horses into the pen.
To chase the stallion and his mares, they chose thoroughbreds, raised in the rugged mountains and sure-footed as well as fast. They planned a relay, using several sets of these mounts left saddled and ready at points along the twenty mile stretch.
Domino wasn’t aware of all the scheming. His mares were foaling, and predation from lions and coyotes had been heavy. The band was distracted enough that the men were able to carry out their plans without panicking any of them.
It was early one morning in May when the sky seemed to fall in on Domino. Out of nowhere, it seemed, and brashly into Domino's private world rode a group of men. He first caught sight of them when they were no more than a half mile off. Where the band’s feeding ground was, the surrounding hills seemed to insulate against all sound. The dense brush and timber the riders approached from acted as a sight and sound barrier. It was a definite handicap for the wild band.
Domino whistled in warning to his mares. They threw their heads up in alarm. They couldn’t detect the men as could Domino, as he stood apart from them on a hill. Domino plunged down toward the mares, gathering them up as a hen does her chicks. The foals seemed oblivious to his motions, which made his job only harder.
Domino’s lead mare, a wise old black mare, led the mares and their offspring away finally. Then they stretched out and ran. The youngest foals could almost outrun their mothers, but only for a short distance. As they tired, their mothers slowed. Domino lashed out at them, cutting them with his teeth as they attempted again and again to drop back with their foals.
The older colts and fillies were staying up a little bit better. The lead mare led them under trees, around boulders and over creeks, swiftly guiding them away from the men. Stallions depended on their good lead mares to keep the band on the trail, then the stallion would follow behind to keep watch. It was no different now.
As the miles wore on, the foals had to drop to the side, some actually falling from exhaustion. Some of the mares pulled away from the band also, despite the continual pushing from Domino.
Ten miles went by, then fifteen. By then, few in the band remained.
Only the lead mare and some yearlings and mares without foals were still able to keep up the pace. The men behind them paid no attention to the exhausted mares and foals they passed on the trail. Wild horses were of no importance to them; they cared little whether they lived or died. They wanted only to capture the beautiful Morgan stallion and bring him back for the reward.
The wild horses still able to outrun the men were nearing collapse.
The men had changed mounts several times now, but the wild band had covered many miles over rough terrain without a break.
Pain racked their bodies, sweat blinded their eyes, and their lungs seemed almost exhausted of their capacity to work. But Domino had a heart that wouldn’t quit until he fell. He kept pushing his mares. He had his mind only on escape and freedom.
Then the band came to a ridge. Below them lay country so dense with brush that they felt assured of freedom. The horses plunged off the mountain, heading into brush over their heads, where no one could see or hear them.
The riders followed. They knew this was the last leg of the chase.
Now the horses would be guided by the wings of the dense brush fence right into their trap. That was, if all went according to plan.
Anxiously, they pushed their horses on, reluctant as they were to enter the dense brush. It stung and jabbed at the thoroughbred’s sensitive sides, and gouged at their eyes and ears, but the men spurred them on and on.
The wild horses had no inkling of what was about to happen.
They were near exhaustion; their senses no longer reacting. All of a sudden, before they realized it, they were caught. Several of the younger ones collapsed after several minutes in the shaded, damp pen, succumbing to exhaustion. The others paced frantically back and forth, looking for a opening to escape through. There was none.
After the men had carefully secured the gate, they let their horses loose to cool down on their own. Then, they peered through the gate. The men were delighted with the outcome of the chase. Not only did they have the stallion, but along with him were some of his yearling offspring; almost exact replicas of their famous sire. They would bring good money, maybe a thousand dollars a piece before they were even gentled.
The horsehunters left the horses alone the rest of the day. The next day they set out to rope the ones they wanted. They hadn’t fed or watered them. They wanted them to be as easy to handle as possible.
They caught several of the best looking of the yearlings, carefully snaking them to the edge of the corral, and haltering them securely. Then they tied them to high limbs of sturdy oaks outside the pen. The wild colts threw themselves against the ropes, finally realizing it was in vain.
Then it was time to catch Domino.
They entered the pen again with caution. He stood at the far end of the pen and faced them, ears darting back and forth. As one roper made a successful throw, the others whistled in surprise. The rope settled neatly over Domino’s head, and he stood still, the rope hanging loosely. The men had forgotten that once Domino had been a well-trained cowhorse; wise to the strength of a rope and taught to respond willingly to it. They stood there in amazement as he neither pulled on the rope nor bit at it. They led him forward and gingerly slipped another rope around his neck. They could see a look in his eye that made them hesitate to try to get a halter on him. They had seen wild stallions before that knew man’s ways; they could be dangerous outlaws, and treacherous.
They secured Domino, then let the remaining horses out of the pen. They had no use for them. Three of the captured horses lay dead; having been literally run to death the day before. This was of no concern to these greedy men. They had accomplished what they had set out to do. They saddled their own tired horses. Next, they untied the haltered yearlings and tied them together, head to tail, like a packstring. They were tired and stood with their heads down, legs worn out and weak from the long race the day before. They were led by two men, while the other two led Domino. They had sent another ahead to get their stock truck and bring it in as close as possible. On his way, this man had gathered up the relays of horses from the previous day’s race and led them back to their headquarters.
It would still be a morning’s ride to get the horses out to their prearranged loading site. Domino led quietly. He had been well-trained to respect a rope. The men didn’t try to get near him though, knowing that would only cause trouble. The yearlings tugged on their ropes now and again, but for the most part, they were halterbroken from their battles tied to the oak limbs. They were smart and perceived their restrictions. They had learned not to fight the ropes and hurt themselves. They were pretty well banged up and made a straggly sight as they moved closer toward civilization.
They were nearing a hill that was very familiar to Domino and he raised his head toward it. Suddenly, came a long, low call from a horse! It was the voice of Domino’s old lead mare. She had been turned loose from the corral with the others earlier that morning, but had not left Domino completely. Now she was calling him! Her voice brought Domino to life. His existence in the wild had taught him some things man could never erase. One was self-preservation.
He trumpetted back to the mare. His eyes brightened and his nostrils flared. The men leading him tightened the lead ropes dallied around their saddlehorns, maintaining a firm hold on him. But it was in vain. Domino’s neck tightened into a mass of steel as he threw himself against the ropes. Once, twice, three times he plunged, pulling the horses holding him off their feet. Then the ropes broke, popping as they sprung into the air.
Without a backward glance, he was gone. Again, he was free.
Having had such a rude taste of captivity, nothing could catch him.
The men were left far behind as the stallion raced to join the faithful black mare. Together they entered the mountain brush. It seemed to envelop them, making them disappear from view as if they were never even there.
The men knew any chase would be futile now. They were so disgusted they couldn’t contain their rage. They did still have the stallion’s offspring though, which would make them some money for all their trouble. They finally continued on, bitter with disappointment.
When the word got back to the Brennans of the chase and of the losing of Domino, they were greatly down-hearted. They were anxious to see his sons and daughters though, and drove immediately to see them.
After a few days rest and nourishment, the yearlings had lost some of their look of exhaustion and fever. Jennifer and her mother, Amanda, cried at the sight of them. Domino’s blood was clearly seen in them. They made arrangements to buy them from the men and have them shipped to the ranch. After seeing the sad condition of the colts, they wondered how Domino had fared.
Chapter 3
FREE
Domino and the black mare headed out for country seldom traveled by men. They hid out, living so cautiously that no man could have discovered them. Domino now had a wariness instilled in him that the Brennans would never have thought possible.
As time went on, the Morgan stallion gathered some of his mares back and added a few others. He coveted his freedom now with a fervor. Those horsehunters had taught him a lesson he’d never forget.
His distrust for men had grown to the point of being an obsession.
Years came and went. Life calmed down for Domino finally.
His band lived a fairly serene and stable life.
Chapter 4
THE FAMILY
In the spring of 1982, Domino was again pushing his band to their usual spring feeding ground. It was in the Black Mountain area, a desolate section of the National Forest. On the edge of it was an old silver mine, long empty since the death of its owner. This area had previously guaranteed a comfortable spring for the band. No one had ever come near to cause the horses alarm.The mares were able to peacefully raise new foals in this quiet environment.
Long ago, before Domino’s time, an old miner had lived there in a sturdy log cabin not far from the mine. He had lived a lonely yet content existence. Upon his death, his small piece of property was left to his favorite relative, a young man. This young man had always admired the miner’s quiet wilderness lifestyle. The cabin had remained empty for almost five years, but now things were different.
Not only did Tom, as heir to the cabin, want to spend time there, he had to. Bad times, calamitous times, had hit his family. It had been an ordeal that could have easily sent a lesser man and woman over the edge, but they would survive. .
For five years before their necessary move to the isolated cabin, Tom and Becky Fields had lived on the family ranch. It had been owned by Becky’s grandparents, and later by her aunt. Becky had practically grown up on the ranch, nestled in the Los Padres National Forest, just west of Santa Margarita. At the age of sixteen, she had moved in with and worked for her Aunt Mary while finishing high school and college. Her own parents had divorced and her mother was happily unencumbered by teenagers. Her father had returned to the safety of his roots in Rhode Island.
After college, Becky had met and married Tom and they had moved to their own place. They continued for a while with a ranch atmosphere of cattle, chickens, and all. This is what they were both used to, but gradually cut down as they planned for a family.
Then they were invited to move to the ranch that Becky loved so dearly. Becky’s mom could see that Aunt Mary was slowing down.
She felt that Tom and Becky could watch over her and help on the ranch. The two were only too willing to do just that. In order to move though, they needed to build their own house on the property.
After much deliberation, they went to a family attorney and had a lease drawn up for a small acreage on the ranch, with a buyout clause if they ever had to move. Instead of building, they brought in a new mobile home and nestled in into the ground so it looked like it was permanent. They paid rent to Aunt Mary for the use of the land and commenced to think life was perfect.
But is life ever without its flaws?
Within no time, Aunt Mary started displaying very bizarre behavior, and within a year was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Becky hadn’t begun her career as a teacher yet, so was happy to help with her aunt’s care. Her mom would drive out from town weekly to bring Aunt Mary groceries. Together, mother and daughter would pay Aunt Mary’s bills and keep track of ranch records. There was always an assorted list of ranch responsibilities to deal with, from the recordkeeping and business point-of-view.
Then, there was the need for someone to actually care for the ranch. It wasn’t as large as it had been originally. The county had bought the lower half twenty years before, for a creek-fed lake and recreation area. It helped the county’s water supply. The ranch still totaled over 8,000 acres of deeded and leased land. They ran cattle on it.
Becky offered to run the ranch, as her aunt had single-handedly done for years before her. Her mom agreed, paying her a hundred dollars a month, and allowing her to choose a calf a year to keep on the ranch. It wasn’t much, but Becky and Tom felt honored to be in a position to help.
And help they both did. As before, Becky helped her mom weekly with the book-keeping. Added to that, she and Tom checked cattle and fence lines on the weekends when Tom wasn’t working. They had been going through a prolonged drought and needed to haul stock blocks, vitamin-mineral supplements, out to cattle on the Forest. For that they used some ranch mares to pack the supplements in. During the week, Becky hauled water to a big cattle trough with Tom’s old Ford truck their water tank trailer. There was only one remaining spring on the ranch that was producing, so the water trough had become a necessity.
Aunt Mary was becoming progressively worse. A young woman was hired to live on the ranch and care for her. The woman was a college student also, so she couldn’t be there for periods during the day. It worked out well though, for a while. As Aunt Mary got worse, Becky’s mom, Nancy, could see the need for more complete care.
Becky had met a woman, Tiffany Mack, who gave impeccable references as a caregiver. She and her husband, Jason, were interviewed by Nancy and soon replaced the college student. Life seemed great again.
But this time it was only worse, much worse. The couple turned out to be conniving and jealous. They resented Becky and Tom’s happy existence on the ranch. Yet from the beginning they bedazzled Becky’s mom with their seemingly competent regime, while they actually were not giving Aunt Mary the needed care.
Becky would stop by to see her aunt and find her strapped to her wheelchair. Once, she had found her on the floor, strapped to the wheelchair. The caregivers had both gone to town! On another occasion, Jason and his wife, Tiffany, had left Aunt Mary in her wheelchair, and their own small daughter in bed napping while they both went to shop.
Becky found the little three year old running up the county road in the rain, wearing only a nightgown, screaming.
She had awakened to an empty house and was completely terrified.
Becky had bundled her in a blanket and driven her toward town, knowing she’d cross paths with the parents. She had. As his tearyeyed daughter climbed into their van, the father had mumbled an excuse. The incident only made him more resentful of Becky.
They had a well-planned answer for everything and when Nancy arrived for her weekly visit, all appeared well. They always kept a facade of normalcy.
Becky saw this. It was distressing to her and she went to the couple about it. They, in no uncertain terms, told her to leave it
alone. They were the experts, not her. Then she went to her mom.
Her mom, Nancy, was upset to hear this. She felt a bit overwhelmed though. Her responsibilities in overseeing her sister had become more than she felt able to deal with. She would have liked someone else to make the decisions, not her alone. Becky offered to help, but Nancy declined the offer.
So Jason took over. He had surmised the weakness in Becky’s mom from the beginning. When she went to him with Becky’s concerns, he glossed them over and turned it all around. According to him, Becky was a control freak. She was jealous of them! They couldn’t do their jobs with her around. Nancy shuddered at that.
She didn’t want to lose them. They appeared to be taking more and more of the responsibility off her shoulders. She needed them, or so she thought. And they saw that. Jason offered to leave if what he was doing was a problem.
Nancy panicked. She begged him to stay. She promised to keep Becky away from the ranch headquarters. He relented and appeared so humble, as he accepted her plea to stay. The die was cast.
From then on, lies were propagated against Tom and Becky.
Nancy would ask Becky to explain certain things, and she would.
Nancy didn’t want to question the caregivers so she would then let it go. Becky was accused of stealing ranch fuel from the big blue tanks by the implement shed. Actually, she had taken fuel only once or twice, usually using her and Tom’s own gas to drive their truck to haul water. The caregivers used the gas for their trips to town, Jason’s trips to work and back, etc.
Jason accused Tom of bringing his dad to the ranch to hunt, which had been closed to hunting for years. It wasn’t true. Instead, Jason invited his own cousins to hunt. Tracks and empty cartridges were seen. Jason’s story had been validated, but wrongly.
Yet another incident was over the ranch bulldozer. Tom was proficient in operating heavy equiptment and had not only been maintaining Aunt Mary’s bulldozer, but had repaired it before he initially used it. He had used it to clear two creek crossings so he could put in some big culverts he had traded for. He had constructed two all-weather creek-crossings, concreting in the culverts and putting roads over the top. Now, as never before, they could drive up to different ranges in foul weather to feed cattle as needed.
So what did Jason do? He carefully put it in Nancy’s ear that Tom was trying to gain possession of the dozer. He let her know he could, with her permission, do things around the ranch, too. He would always ask her permission first, instead of deciding for himself what needed to be done. Nancy liked his groveling demeanor and okayed it. He instantly went to Tom and told him to stay away from the bulldozer.
The horribly comical part was that, within a week, he had driven it up the county road to a pasture entrance, leaving bulldozer track cuts in the blacktop road. Then he proceeded to try to pull over a dead-looking white oak tree. As he pulled with the dozer, he backed into an undeveloped spring and sank the machine halfway up its tracks. When he attempted to drive it out, a track came off.
Then, to add insult to injury, Jason just walked away from it.
The Fields found the bulldozer there and went to Nancy about it.
Tom knew a man who had equipment to pull it out and could replace the track. Jason had already been to Nancy though, and by the time he was done, she thought it was all Tom’s fault.
Becky bought a mare from the ranch. All of the ranch horses were being sold quite cheaply and Becky felt they needed to save one to work the cattle. They already had another of their own. Due to Becky not working at a full-time job, she couldn’t pay cash. Instead, she made a trade that was acceptable to her mom, who was, by then, the official conservator of Aunt Mary. She had complete charge of her sister’s care, and all belongings. The Fields supplied firewood for Aunt Mary’s woodstove. They had installed the ranch’s five hundred gallon water tank onto their own trailer, which they gave to the ranch.
They brought the mare home, and were instantly accused of stealing her.
An uncle of Becky’s was informed of her and Tom’s alleged misdeeds by another aunt of Becky’s who lived fairly close. The uncle came out from back east. He got together with his sisters. They decided that the Fields had to go.
Within a few months, they had an attorney write up a letter full of their accusations and mistrust of Becky and her husband. Nancy, as conservator, signed and sealed the fate of her mother-daughter relationship. It was a letter of evil intent, propagated by Jason and weakly submitted to by Becky’s own family.
The Fields were commanded to leave. Through all of this, Becky had naively felt they would come to their senses, but Jason had seen to it that it wouldn’t happen. He knew the weak moral stature of Nancy and had pressed it to the fullest. Tom and Becky knew now that they must assert themselves. In the few years they had lived on the ranch, they had had a son and daughter. They needed to protect them.
Davey and Anna, their two small children, were very important to them. They were both dark-haired like their parents, Davey looking like his mother and Anna looking like Tom’s mother. They were happy, carefree little ones, and thus far hadn’t had to be involved with what was taking place.