Catch A Fallen Star

“Let’s sweep this stall out before we lay down some fresh straw,” Jesse said, handing Boone a broom.

Jesse did all the talking as they got to work. He shared information about the new horse and how excited he was to train it with Faith’s help. Jesse clearly had a passion for the animals.

“How exactly did you become a social-worker-slash-riding-instructor-slash-horse-trainer? I didn’t know there were colleges giving away degrees in that.”

Jesse stopped working and rested both hands on the top of the broom handle. “Well, I grew up with horses. We had a ranch about forty miles from here. I loved it. I think horses are the most amazing animals on the planet.”

Boone kept sweeping as his curiosity got the best of him. “So why get a degree in social work?”

“That story’s a little bit more complicated. Did you notice I said we had a horse ranch? My dad was a good man, but he had a gambling addiction. It cost him and my mother everything they had spent their lives working for. The bank foreclosed on the ranch on my sixteenth birthday. All the money I thought my parents had put away for me to go to college was gone. We had to move in with my grandparents. My parents split about a year later.”

Boone froze. He wasn’t expecting Jesse to share something so personal.

“Ever since then, I’ve been fascinated by the power of addiction,” Jesse explained. “How could a decent man who loved his family let his life fall apart? How did betting on a horse race or a football game become more important than putting food on the table? My father would tell you it wasn’t more important, but he couldn’t stop himself. Losing was painful, but when he won, he claimed there was no feeling like it. He had to chase it. That’s how I fell into social work.”

The weight of his own shame made Boone weak in the knees. He leaned against the wall for support. Somewhere along the line in his life, alcohol had become more important than everything else—his marriage, his career, his daughter. It wasn’t more important, but Boone couldn’t stop. His body literally craved it, even after all these months of sobriety.

Jesse pushed his broom around. “Thanks to scholarships, loans and working any job I could get, I managed to pay my way through college and graduate school. I learned everything I could about addiction and treatment. I believe that people can overcome their addictions with the right tools and a lot of determination. I tried to convince my dad to get help, but he was too stubborn and proud. Three months before I graduated with my master’s degree, he died, carrying more debt than I had at the time.”

“That’s quite a story,” Boone said.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, my mom used to say.”

“It’s like this place was made for you.”

“That’s exactly how I feel.” Jesse smiled, and the wrinkles around his eyes appeared. “I like to imagine my dad had something to do with it. I think he’d be happy to see me doing something I love while helping people like him at the same time.”

“You think you can help someone like me?” Boone asked, unsure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

“I can help anyone who wants it badly enough and is willing to work hard. There’s no miracle cure for addiction. It’s not easy, and you have to be willing to fight it the rest of your life. Some people have the strength to do that and some don’t.”

This wasn’t a new message. No one ever gave Boone any guarantees. All the doctors and counselors liked to remind him that he was in control of his treatment. Jesse was the first one to make him almost believe it.

“I might be a lost cause.”

Jesse pressed his lips together while he seemed to consider that self-assessment. “If that’s what you truly believe, then what are you doing here mucking stalls with me?”

It was an excellent question. Boone didn’t want to die with a million regrets. He wanted his daughter to answer the phone when he called. He wanted to shake the feeling that everyone was waiting for him to fail. “I don’t want to be one.”

Jesse put a hand on Boone’s shoulder. “Then you don’t have to be.”

* * *

THE TWO MEN had the stall ready to go when Faith returned home with the newest member of the Helping Hooves family. The blue roan filly was a beauty. Her head was dark like her mane and tail, but her body was a bluish gray.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Faith asked once she’d backed her out of the trailer. She tried to lead her toward the barn. The horse had other ideas. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Jesse snickered at her struggle. “She’s got a little stubborn streak, huh?”

Faith had the patience of a saint. She stayed calm and encouraged the horse to come along. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, but she’s going to be something special. I know it.”

“What’s her name?” Boone asked.

“They called her Willow.”

Boone stepped closer, and Willow pulled on her lead to back away. “Hey there, sweet Willow,” he said, running a hand down the side of her neck to calm her. “You are a pretty girl, aren’t you?”

“You want to try?” Faith asked, offering him the lead.

Boone took the rope and kept talking to the horse. She seemed to like his attention and took a step forward when he moved toward the barn.

“Well, look at that. I think we have ourselves a horse whisperer,” Jesse said to Faith.

“Or another Boone Williams fan,” Faith joked.

Boone led the horse into the barn. She immediately went to the water and took a drink.

Jesse stood outside the stall. “I may have found the perfect job for you.”

“Dare I ask what?”

“How do you feel about helping us train Willow to do some therapy?”

“I don’t know what that means, but I wouldn’t mind working with this lovely lady.” Boone held some alfalfa hay out for Willow, and she took it without hesitation.

“We need to talk about something first,” Jesse said, making Boone’s stomach turn. He liked the horse-training Jesse better than Jesse the social worker.

Faith took that as her cue to go. “I’m going to clean out the trailer. I’ll check in with you later, Jesse. Good to see you again, Boone.”

Boone could have sworn the stall walls moved inward. His heart beat faster, almost painfully. “What do we need to talk about?”

“I need to know what’s up with you and Ruby Wynn.”

That was not the issue Boone assumed he wanted to discuss. “What does Ruby have to do with me helping you with this horse?”

“Holly threatened your sense of privacy. I get that. What I don’t understand is why that impacted your relationship with Ruby and your willingness to help Violet.”

“Ruby knew I wasn’t interested in being interviewed, and she still brought that reporter here,” Boone answered. His anger reignited. “That woman is a beautiful disaster, and I’m not going to let her bring me down.”

“It was Ruby’s fault you felt anxious, so as punishment you wouldn’t watch Violet ride. Do I have that right?”

The way Jesse said it made Boone sound like a child. “It’s not that simple. I wasn’t punishing anyone. I needed to walk away because I was frustrated.”

“And when you’re frustrated, escaping is the easiest thing to do?”

Boone’s agitation increased. He could feel his muscles tense and his blood race through his veins. “No, the easiest thing to do is scream and yell, but that’s gotten me in trouble, and I was trying not to make a scene. What does this have to do with Willow?”

“First, this horse is going to frustrate you. Screaming at her isn’t going to help. You already know that. Walking away isn’t going to help me. I need to know that you’re willing to try some other strategies.”