Promise Canyon

“Promise,” he said, giving her a firm nod. “Go on home. You’ve done enough. And thank you.”

She backed away almost fearfully. “No. Thank you,” she said. “Please take care of her.”

“Of course,” Clay said. “Try not to worry.”

As Lilly backed away, she muttered, “How could someone just leave her like that? Abandon her.?” But Clay and Nathaniel didn’t hear her; they were busy working with the horse.

When Lilly delivered feed for her grandfather, who everyone called Yaz, she used one of the company trucks. Her personal vehicle was a little red Jeep, which she’d park in the rear of the store. She spent the majority of her time managing invoices, ordering supplies and cutting payroll checks. Two afternoons a week she’d take out one of Yaz’s company trucks, and one of the guys who worked for him would load up the back each time she returned empty after deliveries. She made several runs to smaller stables and horse properties. The larger orders to big ranches and farms were handled by Yaz and a couple of his employees on the flatbed truck. Yaz was sixty-nine and still strong as a bull. Some farmers and ranchers grew their own feed; some picked up their feed and saved a little money.

Lilly took the pickup keys and clipboard to Yaz’s desk at the back of the store. “Got it done, Grandpa,” she said, handing off the paperwork and keys. “Need anything more from me today?”

“Thank you, Lilly. Any problems I should know about?”

“The delivery went just fine. Dr. Jensen is taking on another horse tomorrow so I’ll increase his delivery for the next time.”

“Does he need a special run?”

“He didn’t ask for an extra delivery, just an increase. I looked in the feed room and he’s well stocked. And he has a new guy working for him.” Her grandfather didn’t even look up from the signed delivery receipts she had handed him. “Virginia went ahead and retired the second the new guy was on his way,” she said. He nodded at his paperwork. “He hired himself an assistant. Big guy. A Navajo.”

Yaz looked up then and connected eyes with his granddaughter. He smiled just slightly. “Is that a fact? Why’d he come here?”

Lilly almost blushed; she had no idea because she didn’t ask him about himself at all. He had asked her questions, general flirting and being friendly she supposed, but all she knew of him was that he was Navajo and could carry two bales at a time. “I didn’t really talk to him. Just to say hello, that’s all.”

“Is he good with horses?”

“Yes, he. Grandpa, on my way home I found a sick horse by the road. Probably colic. I called Nathaniel and he came out with Clay—that’s the new guy’s name, Clay. They came right away but what we found out, the people who owned that pasture where the mare was and the house and barn that went with it, they cleared out and left their animals to starve. Nathaniel says they’re seeing more of that sort of thing all the time because of the economy and unemployment.”

“People who were having a hard time before are having a harder time now,” Yaz said.

“He said sometimes they have to choose between feeding their children and their animals. But there are rescue groups! Why wouldn’t they call a rescue group?”

Yaz looked up at her, his dark eyes gathering a little moisture, the flesh below and at the corners crepey and wrinkled. “Even the rescue groups are stretched to the limit. Then there’s pride and shame,” he said. He leaned back in his old desk chair. “When a man is running out on his debts, he doesn’t usually say goodbye.”

“You’d think whoever did that could’ve swallowed enough pride to let someone know the animals were left behind,” she said.

“You’d think,” he agreed. “The horse going to be all right?”

She shrugged. “Nathaniel was treating her with pain medication and mineral oil when I left, even though there’s no one to pay him.”

Yaz looked down at the clipboard again, paging through her collection of deliveries. “Well, at least she got the best, and at a bargain.”

“True,” Lilly agreed softly. “You’ll want to meet the new man—he grew up around Flagstaff.”

A smile hinted at the corners of Yaz’s mouth. “It will be good to see a neighbor, even an inferior neighbor.” The Hopi and Navajo had long lived side by side, alternately getting along and squabbling. “I look forward to knowing him. See you on Sunday.” That was the day they set aside to eat together at his house. It was a traditional house—Lilly cooked. She also made sure her grandfather’s house was clean and his laundry done.

So much for her nontraditional ways ….

“Sunday,” she echoed, leaving the warehouse.

Her heart was still heavy, however. It was likely Lilly had an issue with this business about the horse for more than one reason. Lilly’s mother had abandoned her when she was an infant, leaving her with her grandparents on the reservation in Arizona. Lilly’s grandma had passed when Lilly was nine and while Yaz was grief-stricken, he was not intimidated by the prospect of raising her alone, without the help of a woman. In fact, it was possible he’d risen to the occasion. He seemed to relish his parenting duties. And at thirteen, the boy she’d loved had run out on her, leaving her high and dry, and with bigger problems than she knew how to deal with. Abandonment was an issue for her and she knew it.

It was that same year that Yaz brought her to California. He heard about the sale of the feed store from a friend of a friend, and for his entire life on the reservation he’d been saving and investing for just such an opportunity. That had been fourteen years ago. She hadn’t moved out of her grandfather’s house until she was twenty-five and that had been a difficult transition; he clearly wanted her to stay with him forever or at least until she was married.

While Lilly was on her way to her little rented house at the edge of Fortuna, she realized she’d have to go back to that pasture. She needed to know if the horse was there alone, if she was hurting, if she was sick, if she was. Her mind couldn’t form the word dead. She needed closure. And if Nathaniel and Clay had left her alone, Lilly would be the one to stay with her until she was either recovered or. Again, she couldn’t allow certain potential outcomes to enter her mind.

But when she did allow her mind to go that far, she knew that if the horse had to be put down, Lilly would stroke her head and send her off with loving words.

By the time she got home, fixed herself a portobello, cheese, pepper and tomato sandwich and wrapped it, a couple of hours had passed since she’d first found the horse. She grabbed a bag of soy nuts and almonds, a bottle of apple juice and one of water. Then she dug through the detached garage for an old sleeping bag that smelled vaguely of storage. If the horse didn’t have serious digestion problems, she’d have taken a few carrots and a couple of apples, but the mare would be off food for the time being.

It was almost seven by the time she was back on the road, seven-thirty by the time she approached the place she’d found the mare. It was August; the sun was just lowering in the west. Because of the tall trees it darkened a bit earlier here than on the Pacific Coast. She was shocked to see that not only were the truck and trailer still there, but surrounded by reflective, triangular collapsible cones to notify any other vehicles that might come along after dark.

Lilly pulled up in front of the pickup and got out, leaving her food behind. It was already dusk, but she could see Clay walking the horse in a wide circle around the pasture. She remembered from her horse days in childhood that was one of the treatments for colic, a little walking. Not too much; a safe and moderate amount. She didn’t see Dr. Jensen.

She jumped the fence to get in the pasture. Soon enough he came toward her, leading the mare. “You’re back,” he said. “Need something?”

“Yes,” Lilly answered, “I need to know if she’s going to be all right.”

“She’s hanging in there. She needs a little time.”

“She’s not getting worse, is she?”

“Nope, she’s doing fine. But she’s pumped full of Banamine and it’s a waiting game to see if the treatment worked for her. She’s still stressed. She’s still pawing and stretching out. This is an unhappy lady here. Is that the only reason you’re here?”

Lilly shrugged and put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I was afraid you’d leave her and she’d be. I didn’t want her to be alone. In case … Well, in case she got a lot worse.”

“Lilly,” he said, bending a little until their eyes connected. “I wouldn’t leave a sick animal unless I had to. I’ll see it through. You don’t have to worry.” He straightened. “Those blue eyes really freak me out.”

She grinned at him. “Freaked out my grandfather, too.”

“I’ll bet the old Hopi just about passed out.”

“Well, since you have to have the blue DNA on both sides and he thinks both himself and my grandma are a hundred percent Native, it means there was a bad pilgrim back there somewhere.” She smiled brightly. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet,” he said.

“Would you like half a sandwich?”

He lifted one expressive brow. “Whatcha got?”

“Mushroom, tomato, peppers and cheese. On wheat.”

He grimaced. “I was promised a welcome dinner of pot roast,” he informed her.

She smiled lazily. “Do they deliver?”

“I sincerely hope so, but it’s more likely there will be leftovers. Annie came to fetch Nathaniel home and I offered to stay on, but I think I’m going to be able to take the horse back to the clinic before too much—”

Right then the horse decided to stretch out again to ease her abdominal pain.