BIBLES AND BONES IN THE FOREST: Preview of a work in progress.
The horse’s hooves pounded the frozen earth along a narrow path through New York State’s rugged forest.
Twenty-three year-old Laura Murillo leaned forward in the saddle. “Faster, Champ, faster!”
Vapor poured from the stallion’s nostrils and despite below-freezing temperatures, sweat beaded on Laura’s forehead, mingling with the black curls escaping her helmet.
She thanked God that the former racing thoroughbred still had plenty of spirit. She prayed he wouldn’t spook and buck.
Laura heard the approaching roar of the ATV squeezing through snow-draped pine boughs hanging over the path, then a resounding gunshot.
Oh God, let someone hear.
But Laura knew she had wandered too far into the wilderness and the dense forest buffered noise.
Her mind screamed. Why did I sneak back here again? What was I thinking? I could pay for this with my life. Champ too.
Laura forced back her panicked thoughts and regained the determination etched into her attractive face. She knew every inch of the forest and one of its old, hidden trails was a mile ahead. Even though Champ was in full gallop, they seemed to be moving in slow motion.
At last, they reached the trail and Laura squeezed his girth with her leg, instructing him to turn onto the path. The brush swallowed them as another gunshot blasted. Laura held her breath as the ATV roared past and its engine faded away into the forest.
Still, danger was closing in and she had to warn the others.
It had all begun innocently enough, six months earlier—just three young moms escaping the doldrums of dinner, dishes and diapers to explore the beauty of the forest on horseback. The verdant canopy and gentle breeze on their faces provided relief from the sultry July afternoon.
Laura had invited Stella and Tiffany on the outing, glad for the company of her new neighbors who lived along the same rural road. But they were more than neighbors.
Married to Laura’s brother, Raul, Stella lived in the family's rambling old farmhouse, several hundred feet from Laura and her family. Tiffany Cavanaugh and her husband, Stevie, had taken up residence in a newer home, about a mile away. Laura and her husband, Chris had purchased their own farmhouse, from Stevie’s mom, Liz.
Laura and Chris were living their dream, which included a recently organized horse rescue and boarding business. They had built a stable and named the business, Pine Brook Horse Rescue and Ranch. So far, they owned three horses, Champ the tall and athletic thoroughbred, Buster a bay colored American Quarter Horse and Buttercup, a speckled old mare. They were also boarding four additional horses.
"One of these days I'll start giving riding instruction," Laura called above the clip-clop of hooves.
"And I'll teach a children's Sunday school class," Tiffany injected. "But first, I need to get over this emotional funk. And I will. ‘For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind’” (2 Timothy 1:7, NKJV).
Laura smiled. Coming from “the preacher’s wife, Scripture had a natural flow. She could bring the pages of the Bible into the practical concerns of every life.
In the lead along the path, Laura, an accomplished equestrian, was astride the spirited Champ, while California transplant, Stella, rode the easier-to-handle Buster. Tiffany, who had never ridden a horse until only recently, was astride Buttercup. The horses clip-clopped at a leisurely pace occasionally whinnying, shaking their manes or snorting.
Laura's German shepherd, Lady, walked alongside.
The friends had chatted in English and Spanish. Although Laura and Stella were Hispanic, Tiffany was mainly of English and Irish descent. But she had studied Spanish in high school and college and was quite proficient.
Laura filled them in on how the horses they rode came to the ranch.
“When Champ outlived his usefulness as a race horse at age four, his owners kicked him out of the barn to make space for a young stallion. They all but abandoned Champ to the elements and left him to starve. Neighbors reported his exposed ribs and weakened condition. The authorities contacted Chris and me, asking if we would take Champ in. We couldn’t say no and as you can see, we loved him and fattened him up.”
Laura patted the horse’s side. “He earns his keep. We get stud fees by breeding him.”
“Buster was found wandering in the woods, also malnourished. Although it was winter, he was able to paw through the snow for plants. He had no microchip, so we have no idea who may have abandoned him or where he wandered from. No one claimed him. But he’s got a great disposition and we were happy to rescue him and take him in. The veterinarian estimates his age at seven.”
“Our sweet Buttercup was never neglected, but when her owner died unexpectedly, no one wanted Buttercup because she was too old at eighteen. She was loved and cared for and it shows. We couldn’t resist.”
Laura changed the subject. “Hey, I’m glad we got the guys to watch the kids and get the cookout ready.”
“Yeah, our cavemen, cooking and guzzling beer,” blonde ballerina, Stella laughed. “Maybe even Tiff’s hubby, ‘The Preacher,’ has had a cold one or two.”
Tiffany smiled. “I don’t think so. Stevie doesn’t drink anymore because he’s concerned it might turn people away from his Bible studies.”
“Oh, who cares about those stuffed shirts,” Stella said with a good-natured toss of her head.
Sunlight shimmered in Tiffany’s red hair, cascading from her helmet. Her relaxed smile warmed Laura’s heart. She knew the rides and burgeoning friendship with herself and Stella, were alleviating Tiffany’s anxiety about moving from Florida to New York’s Adirondack Mountains, Stevie’s home turf.
After living in Florida for a while, he had returned to start a church, but for now, was putting his law degree to use, while taking seminary classes and leading a non-denominational Bible study group. Laura and Chris, as well as Stella and Raul, were among several young couples in attendance.
As if part of the magic that day, Laura spotted a doe and fawn down an incline, drinking from Pine Brook. Its fresh scent moistened the air, mingling with the fragrance of evergreen.
As quietly as possible, Laura pointed out the deer. The threesome paused to admire the peaceful scene and take pictures.
Viewing her picture, Tiffany remarked that the collage of greenery, branches, deer and sunlit brook lent an abstract effect. She forwarded the picture to her mother-in-law, Liz, an artist. “She might want to paint this.”
Stella was admiring her own picture, which focused on the speckled fawn.
But when Lady went to lap from the brook, the deer scampered away. Laura motioned to the others.
"C'mon, let's bring these thirsty horses down for a drink."
The horses were soon drinking from the brook and shaking their manes.
Laura proclaimed that refreshing interlude, “a perfect way to end a perfect ride.”
She led the group alongside an old stone wall leading to the back of her property. The rich aroma of meat grilling on a barbecue grew stronger as the trio approached. The men's hearty laughter and the children’s happy squeals became louder. Lady ran ahead, announcing the riders' arrival.
Once the horses were cooled down and secured in the barn, the threesome joined their families around a table on which the food was spread. The husbands and children had been waiting and everyone was eager for hamburgers, chicken, potato salad, baked beans and corn on the cob. All ate to their heart's content.
Later, that still, starry night, the couples and sleepy-eyed children gathered in the driveway to say goodnight.
Something had annoyed Stella and she let the others know. “So, I send my dad the picture of the deer—and what does he say? Instead of ‘wow, that’s beautiful,' he said he doesn’t want his Princess going in the woods, even on horseback. He reminded me that his sister-in-law, Liz was chased by a bear in that very area."
Stella rolled her pretty blue eyes. "He told me wild animals or perverts could be lurking in that desolate forest. Dad’s just seen too much blood and gore in the Army. It’s stayed with him."
Laura nodded in agreement. She knew Jack well; after all, he was married to her mom, Rosa, who had mentioned Jack’s nightmares about watching a buddy’s head explode when he was shot by a sniper. But Rosa was cathartic for him and the couple was living happily in St. Augustine, Florida.
Following some more pleasant chatter, Laura’s attention was suddenly diverted toward the dark hills. She pressed her finger to her lips. "Did you hear that? I could swear I heard a woman screaming in the distance.”
Catching the alarmed look in Tiffany's eyes, she regretted saying what she had.
Stella nodded. “I thought I heard something too. But it sounded like an owl screeching.”
“That’s probably it,” Laura replied to assuage Tiffany's fears.
Yet in her heart, Laura knew she had heard a scream.
Greetings from "the gang" at Pine Brook Horse Rescue and Ranch, in New York State's beautiful Adirondack Mountains.
