direction he looked there were streams
and lakes, which meant this wilderness would surely be alive with an abundance
of wildlife. Sloppy’s herd would be hard to find out here. There was plenty of
cover, and Shane began thinking he would probably need a guide to help him
locate them.
He sat there for a long time and soon began to
wonder how a God who could make country as beautiful as this could be the same
God who let his family die in that horrible accident. As the familiar anger
built inside him, he quickly stood, took a long, deep breath to clear his mind,
and climbed back into his truck. By now it was late afternoon and time to start
heading to the Jensen’s for dinner.
During the drive, Shane found himself becoming more
and more curious about what Mr. Jensen could tell him concerning the mustang’s
brand. Hopefully he might even know where the herd was, or if not, where he
could find a competent guide.
Shane pulled into the driveway, and both of the
horses trotted up to the fence. Even at his first quick glance, he noticed that
Sloppy had a different look in her eyes. She seemed more alive and
animated. “You know you’re back in your own country, don’t you?” he teased. He
affectionately patted the two on their necks and checked them over from head to
hoof.
A shallow stream ran through the field where the
horses were staying and Shane could see by the mud on their legs that they’d
been playing in it. After visiting with them for a few more minutes, he went
and knocked on the Jensen’s door.
The old brick, ranch-style house was in good shape.
The yard was well kept with the surrounding landscape a sight to behold. The
small farm sat in the middle of the foothills with a variety of large aspen,
sycamore, and maple trees, all in full foliage, randomly scattered about.
Mr. Jensen opened the door, “Hi Shane, come in and
take a load off.” They sat in the den near the fireplace, which was in full
flame. “I don’t usually light a fire this time of year, but for some reason I
was in the mood for one,” he said as he offered Shane a glass with a shot of
good sipping whiskey.
“I want to thank you again for taking care of Tory’s
colic.”
“No problem,” the old man answered as he poured
himself two fingers.
“I hope you like fried chicken,” Mrs. Jensen
remarked as she walked into the room.
“Yes, ma’am, that sounds good.”
The three of them sat next to the fire, and talked.
“I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed the clinic I saw you put on in Kansas,”
Mrs. Jensen said. “You know, I must have gone to half a dozen clinics that
year. My friend and I decided that we would travel together. We had a lot of
fun driving all around to horse shows and clinics. We wore out a set of tires
on my horse trailer,” she laughed. “You were the one clinician that really
stood out for us. Your clinic was full of practical information on how a horse
thinks and reacts. We were simply bowled over seeing what you could do with
one. Why, you had every one of those animals in the palm of your hands. I even
ordered some of your videotapes. I think I still have them. I kept looking for
more of your clinic dates, but you just seemed to vanish. I finally assumed you
gave it up for some reason.”
“Yes, ma’am, I haven’t done that for almost fifteen
years now.” Fearing she might question him concerning the reason he stopped
putting on his clinics, which was, of course, his family life, Shane decided to
quickly change the subject.
“Dinner sure smells good.”
Mrs. Jensen smiled and replied, “Why don’t we
continue visiting while we eat?” She then led them to the table.
After the meal, they moved back by the fire. It
wasn’t long before he felt the conversation was once again drifting toward the
reason he left his life on the road. These were nice people and he wasn’t
trying to hide anything from them, but the last thing he wanted was to have
them feel pity for him. Besides, he was
and lakes, which meant this wilderness would surely be alive with an abundance
of wildlife. Sloppy’s herd would be hard to find out here. There was plenty of
cover, and Shane began thinking he would probably need a guide to help him
locate them.
He sat there for a long time and soon began to
wonder how a God who could make country as beautiful as this could be the same
God who let his family die in that horrible accident. As the familiar anger
built inside him, he quickly stood, took a long, deep breath to clear his mind,
and climbed back into his truck. By now it was late afternoon and time to start
heading to the Jensen’s for dinner.
During the drive, Shane found himself becoming more
and more curious about what Mr. Jensen could tell him concerning the mustang’s
brand. Hopefully he might even know where the herd was, or if not, where he
could find a competent guide.
Shane pulled into the driveway, and both of the
horses trotted up to the fence. Even at his first quick glance, he noticed that
Sloppy had a different look in her eyes. She seemed more alive and
animated. “You know you’re back in your own country, don’t you?” he teased. He
affectionately patted the two on their necks and checked them over from head to
hoof.
A shallow stream ran through the field where the
horses were staying and Shane could see by the mud on their legs that they’d
been playing in it. After visiting with them for a few more minutes, he went
and knocked on the Jensen’s door.
The old brick, ranch-style house was in good shape.
The yard was well kept with the surrounding landscape a sight to behold. The
small farm sat in the middle of the foothills with a variety of large aspen,
sycamore, and maple trees, all in full foliage, randomly scattered about.
Mr. Jensen opened the door, “Hi Shane, come in and
take a load off.” They sat in the den near the fireplace, which was in full
flame. “I don’t usually light a fire this time of year, but for some reason I
was in the mood for one,” he said as he offered Shane a glass with a shot of
good sipping whiskey.
“I want to thank you again for taking care of Tory’s
colic.”
“No problem,” the old man answered as he poured
himself two fingers.
“I hope you like fried chicken,” Mrs. Jensen
remarked as she walked into the room.
“Yes, ma’am, that sounds good.”
The three of them sat next to the fire, and talked.
“I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed the clinic I saw you put on in Kansas,”
Mrs. Jensen said. “You know, I must have gone to half a dozen clinics that
year. My friend and I decided that we would travel together. We had a lot of
fun driving all around to horse shows and clinics. We wore out a set of tires
on my horse trailer,” she laughed. “You were the one clinician that really
stood out for us. Your clinic was full of practical information on how a horse
thinks and reacts. We were simply bowled over seeing what you could do with
one. Why, you had every one of those animals in the palm of your hands. I even
ordered some of your videotapes. I think I still have them. I kept looking for
more of your clinic dates, but you just seemed to vanish. I finally assumed you
gave it up for some reason.”
“Yes, ma’am, I haven’t done that for almost fifteen
years now.” Fearing she might question him concerning the reason he stopped
putting on his clinics, which was, of course, his family life, Shane decided to
quickly change the subject.
“Dinner sure smells good.”
Mrs. Jensen smiled and replied, “Why don’t we
continue visiting while we eat?” She then led them to the table.
After the meal, they moved back by the fire. It
wasn’t long before he felt the conversation was once again drifting toward the
reason he left his life on the road. These were nice people and he wasn’t
trying to hide anything from them, but the last thing he wanted was to have
them feel pity for him. Besides, he was
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