All That's Unclaimed: Sunnydale Days, #2

Chapter One

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To Ben Crawford the miles of fence surrounding the seventy-five acres of Sunnydale Farms did not just contain his mother’s horses. Those rails also held him back from some abstract calling he hadn’t yet heard.

This therapeutic riding stable was Betty Crawford’s dream, born out of her desire to help a friend’s daughter. The undeniable benefits of equine therapy on that autistic child sparked a fire in his mother. She did her research, trained with the North American Riding for the Handicapped Association, and began switching the focus of her stables from a 4H barn to a facility that helped the physically and emotionally challenged.

Sunnydale Farms was born, at least in concept.

Ben found satisfaction as well. Helping people heal challenged him, and working alongside his mother allowed him to combine his love of horses and youngsters. But something was missing.

Walking the long corridor between the two rows of stalls, the heel of Ben’s boot clacked against the concrete only a little louder than the sound of horses munching on their grain. The familiar sounds mingling with the smell of lilacs blooming reminded him he was home again.

Instead of taking comfort, he felt constrained, as if he was stuck in a pair of riding boots that were a size too small.

He pulled the clipboard from the nail on the bulletin board and looked at the schedule of riding students. They were double-booked all day, a sure sign of summer vacation. He only had one break: thirty minutes around one o’clock.

The upside: he got to share the arena with Anna Jenkins.

She’d been hired as a teen—the summer before he left for college—to fill the void created by his absence. A high school junior at the time, Anna happily plowed through even the messiest of chores without complaint. Her work ethic was fueled by the desire to be surrounded by horses. He never understood her particular enthusiasm for forking through wood shavings, but he welcomed a break from mucking stalls and never questioned it.

Later, she proved her dedication to both the Crawfords and the children by obtaining her training certification from the NARHA.

Over recent years, he’d come home at intervals, only to leave after a few months for more schooling or job opportunities. Somehow, something always drew him back.

Last winter, it’d been a wedding. Anna served as a bridesmaid at her brother’s nuptials. It was the first and only time he’d seen her in a dress or her long, brown hair styled in a way other than neatly pulled off her face by a gray knit headband. In an instant, she went from schoolgirl barn help to a full-grown woman.

Now, every time she showed kindness to a child or paid focused attention to the animals, the act would bathe her in an angelic glow. He also noticed the jeans and ragged T-shirts accented her slight waist and full hips better than the bridesmaid’s gown that first grabbed his libido.

The sound of Anna humming as she entered the barn turned him in her direction. She paused in front of the stall that housed the new mare before continuing down the aisle and stopping in front of him. She wiped her hands on the small towel she’d connected to a belt loop of her jeans with a metal clip. Do you think it’s a good idea for your mom to start training that mare already?

You know what Mom is like. She was up half the night outlining a schedule.

It might be wiser to let the horse settle in a bit, get used to the surroundings.

Mom won’t get on her today. Just groom her, maybe do a little ground work.

But inside the stall? Anna shifted her weight and turned her gaze back toward the end of the aisle. The look in her eyes confused Ben.

The new horse was a five-year-old and completely green, but his mother could handle anything life threw at her, always had for as long as he could remember.

He tapped the clipboard in his hands. Are you with me? We need to go over today’s schedule.

She nodded, but he could tell she only half listened to him. What time did your mom get back with the horse last night?

After eleven.

How did she come off the trailer?

He unsuccessfully tried to contain the laugh. Fine! My mother has been around horses since she was younger than your niece. She can handle a spirited mare.

Rotating her shoulders as if she could shake off the bad feelings, she turned back toward him. I know. I...

She paused and adjusted that trademark headband. It’s just that from the first time we looked at that horse, she spooked me. There’s something about it that I just don’t like.

Hearing that admission set off an alarm in Ben’s gut. On his list of fearless women—right under Betty Crawford—was Anna’s name. Her ability to handle chaos was only one of the many attributes he admired about her. When one of their young students melted down or a horse behaved badly, she took charge and diffused the situation with sympathy or sternness, whichever the situation called for. She had an uncanny ability to catch any monkey wrench thrown into the events of the day, circumventing any potential crisis. Nothing frightens you.

She laughed. I wish.

Seriously. Name one thing you’re afraid of.

Running out of chocolate.

She maintained such a serious look on her face while making the joke. Yet another endearing quality he’d come to adore in her. Her laugh erupted again, which penetrated his emotional walls, crumbling the business atmosphere he struggled to maintain.

He reached out and tugged on the sleeve of her T-shirt. Come on. We need to figure out which students should ride what horses. I think I should use Honey with John. Do you want to use Ginger with Cory?

A piercing bray rose up from the end of the aisle.

Whoa! Whoa! His mother’s shrill cry cut the air.

Two loud bangs against the stall wall.

Then silence.

You okay, Betty? Fear rode Anna’s question, intensifying the tremble whisking up Ben’s spine.

No screams. No sound at all.

Anna sprinted down the aisle. The clipboard slipped from Ben’s hand, rattling against the concrete. He followed behind her, calling out his mother’s name and hoping for an answer.

Any answer.

Anna reached the stall first. Dear God.

The horror in her eyes hedged him. Ben knew he didn’t want to see what she did, but he couldn’t let fear corral him and looked around the corner.

Betty Crawford lay in a crumpled heap in the far corner. Lifeless. The horse had pushed itself into the opposite corner and now looked calm.

Anna grabbed the lead rope that hung on a nail and reached for the stall door handle.

Ben quickly covered her hand with his much larger one. His mom had drilled protocol on how to handle this kind of emergency into his head. He instinctively fell into crisis mode.

Anna argued against his restraint. She’s not moving!

I know. After I get the horse out of the stall, you stay with her while I call 911. If he could hear the tremor in his voice, the horse would sense his distress. This was a time for calm heads. He needed to be firm and in control so the animal would not spook or rear up.

Swallowing hard, he took the lead rope from Anna and guided her to the side, before taking sure, purposeful steps, keeping his eyes focused on the young mare. He grabbed the halter and hooked the clip to the ring.

Be careful, Anna said.

With a single tug, the horse followed Ben out of the stall.

After turning her loose in the arena and securing the gate, Ben dialed 911 on his cell phone then ran the length of barn. When the dispatcher answered, he requested an ambulance and gave the woman their address.

Ben knelt in the stall’s bedding next to Anna. How is she? Is she breathing?

Yes. Still unconscious. And all this blood! She must have hit her head. And look at her shoulder. I don’t want to move her.

No. Don’t. Into the phone he repeated the list of obvious injuries Anna had just enumerated.

He watched as Anna smoothed his mother’s hair off her face and patted her hand. Speaking quietly, she reassured the woman they were both there and the ambulance was on the way.

For some odd reason, Ben remembered Anna at her brother’s wedding. That night he’d seen her outer beauty in clear focus. In this moment, he realized her character matched the glamorous image.

He could hear sirens in the distance, maybe a mile away. They’re almost here, Mom. We’ll get you to the hospital soon.

Anna pushed herself to her feet. I’ll go open the gates.

She maneuvered her way out of the stall, and from the sound of her footfalls, he could tell she ran at top speed.

Thank God she’s here.

He moved closer to his mom and squeezed her hand tight as Anna had done. The dispatcher rambled in his ear, asking again for the details of the accident.

I told you I didn’t see what happened!

Maybe he should have. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his mom so excited about a horse. Still, excitement never clouded her judgment before. Anna knew the horse was dangerous and had told his mom so. The two usually relied on each other’s judgment, but this mare had stolen his mother’s heart.

Why hadn’t Anna come to him about this earlier? He was supposed to be his mother’s right hand on the farm, yet the two women always kept him in the dark.

They adjusted horse’s feed, scheduled rider’s appointments, and placed orders, never asking for Ben’s input. Every time he returned from months in Seattle or Miami or Biloxi, with new certifications and fresh insights from the wonderful work done in hospitals and other training barns, he would unpack his bags and prepare to lay out his new ideas for Anna and his mother. They always seemed pleased to have him back, but he never got the feeling they wanted anything but man hours from him. He knew they’d developed their system while he was gone but couldn’t help wondering if maybe he’d stayed away too long overall to ever be considered an important part of the facility’s operations.

The sirens grew louder as the ambulance approached the barn. Obviously anxious, the horses in the surrounding stalls began to whinny and pace.

Ben fumbled to shove the phone into his back pocket after the dispatcher hung up. Over here! Last stall on the right!

At the sound of a gurney rolling down the aisle, he found his feet and backed out of the stall just as the two paramedics pushed their way in. One was holding a large black box. The other held a neck brace.

Ben struggled to follow the conversation between the paramedics, even though he knew some medical terminology. Being a licensed physical and occupational therapist wasn’t the same as being a doctor, and the speed at which they spoke, mixed with his fear for his mother, made it hard for him to completely process their main concerns.

Anna stopped in front of him, barely winded even thought she had run for all she was worth. She rubbed his arm. Don’t worry about anything but your mother. I’ll take care of the horses and everything here.

Panic rose up. What? No! Cancel all the lessons for today and come to the hospital. I don’t want to wait alone.

She eyed him curiously. Are you sure that’s what you want me to do?

Yes. I’ll go with the ambulance. Come as quick as you can secure everything.

Of course.

Thanks. His words rode a tremble and his legs went light as the severity of his mother’s injuries began to come into focus. Ben twisted away from Anna, peeking into the stall. His mother still lay motionless as the paramedics continued their treatment, securing his mother to a backboard and locking the neck brace into place. He leaned back against the stall. He couldn’t lose the only parent who’d ever been there for him.

He’d been eight when his father had abandoned both of them to chase the dream of rodeo stardom. After ten semi-successful years, Sam Crawford returned to the area hoping to rebuild the lost relationships. Ben left for college a few months after Sam’s return and avoided dealing with his deadbeat dad. Betty, on the other hand, agreed to let the past go and remained friendly with her ex. For Ben, it would always be too little, way too late.

The image of the blood soaking her hair and her disjointed shoulder and arm flashed through his mind. His hands curled into fists.

She’d come through this. He’d accept no less

His body sank further down the wall, and he pushed his weight against it, trying to stay upright. Anna stepped closer. Her hands braced his shoulders. Your mother is the strongest, bravest woman I know. She’s going to be okay.

Ben’s arms ached with a need to be wrapped around Anna. He should tell her all the crazy mixed-up feelings that had been recently swirling in his head. Why couldn’t he say he wanted to lean against her for support instead of the barn wall?

This was a work place. And she was an employee. So, he reached out and patted her shoulder.

The paramedics wheeled his mother out of the stall and down the aisle.

A fog swirled around him and his feet felt light as they carried him to the ambulance. He followed the paramedics’ directions, pulling himself up into the back and taking a seat on the small rail attached to the metal wall.

Wake up!

This was just a horrible nightmare.

Right?

It had to be.

In the ambulance, the paramedic worked on his mother. Ben refused to let go of her hand, even if she wasn’t conscious. Even if she didn’t know he was there.

He tried to focus on the questions asked.

Did the horse hit her in the head?

Was the injury from being slammed into the stall wall?

What about her shoulder?

Repeatedly, he told them he hadn’t witnessed the accident, only heard his mother’s scream and then the loud noises. His best guess: the horse kicked her into the stall wall.

Twice.

The paramedic’s questions and continual examination of her neck caused Ben to wonder if she had a spinal injury to go with the obvious broken bones.

The sirens cut through his ability to concentrate. Their continual wail signaled the severity of her injuries. This wasn’t a big city. Sirens weren’t a necessity to clear traffic. Usually, an ambulance would just blast them on at intersections.

They were getting closer, had to be. The barn was only six miles from the hospital, and the driver raced down the country roads as if they were a NASCAR track.

His mother tightened her grip on his hand