Part 4: 10 - Tangle
A few snarls where patience may be required
Things That Can’t Be Broken is a novel presented as a live draft, one chapter every week.
Nine-year-old Dani makes a fervent promise that there will always be horses in her life, so when she finds out her next-door neighbor won a scholarship to an exclusive horsemanship program, she vows to win one too. She never gets the chance—but her short life has a lasting effect on a community.
Last week: Part 4: 9 - Rising • The forecast is getting sticky
Part 4 | This Storm is Called Progress
10 - Tangle
Barb Ames
March 22, 2023
Sedona, Arizona
By ten in the morning, the truck and trailer were humming along the interstate. Barb at the wheel, Talking Heads shouting in her head. . . This is not my beautiful house.
Once she got over the shiny new-car smell in the cab, maneuvering the truck with the four-horse trailer came back to Barb pretty quickly. After pulling it out and driving a few miles on the highway and then down a few back roads into Lakeside, she returned to Allen Haven Ranch. She found she was able to back it right up into its original tread marks behind the barn. Apparently, after thirty-five years, she could still ride a bike.
It wasn’t until Barb turned off the engine that Maeve announced she was going to stay behind with the horses. Tim would be riding with her instead. Great, Barb thought. She pictured the last time she sat down with the Cartwrights at their kitchen table. Tim’s words, because of you! echoed in her head while a rock dropped into her stomach. This could be a very long ride. Does it have to be Tim?
Barb asked Maeve, “Does he even know how to load horses?”
She said, “He’s a good navigator, and I believe you should be able to teach him anything he needs to know.” She looked Barb in the eye, adding, “We’re going to have a lot of students here. You do want the job, don’t you?”
“Yes! I do,” Barb replied. She never could argue with Mrs Allen.
Tim did love his dog, Ammy. Who wouldn’t? But that gave her some hope, and he had greeted Barb with a friendly smile, as if there was no history there.
At first, traveling with Tim Cartwright felt like hanging out with a game show host after losing in the first round. Words kept popping into the space above Barb’s tongue, starting with, So . . .
So. . . how’s life been since your daughter followed me into the hands of a murdering sicko?
So. . . I hear you and Lisa divorced?
So. . . did you ever think someone like me, who is about to get evicted and just maxed out her last credit card to buy cheap tires after recovering from an alcoholic binge, would be driving this new truck you just bought all the way to Sedona—with you as a passenger?
Yet Tim didn’t look nervous at all. He said, “Lisa told me you were working at The Coffee Cup. It was a good place, good food. Good pies, too. I remember going there with my parents. It’s so sad it shut down.”
“Yeah, my mother probably served your folks,” said Barb.
Tim nodded. “There aren’t many of us anymore. People born in San Diego, I mean.”
Barb remembered that she had to breathe. “You’re not kidding. But then, it is a Navy town, there have always been people here from all over the world.”
“A good point. Lisa’s parents’ families came from Italy and Japan. Maeve was telling me her family is pretty prominent in San Diego history. Road builders way back. Her maiden name was Dalton,” said Tim.
“That’s right. Dalton Center, Dalton Parkway . . .” Barb changed lanes to pass a lagging minibus. “It’s amazing what you’ve done for Maeve at Allen Haven. I keep wondering how that came about.”
“It’s for Dani,” said Tim. “She would have wanted it. But it’s also for people like you—and Maeve, and the next generation of kids that can benefit from it. It was Lisa’s idea to get the Allen Horsemanship Program running again. She brought it up ten, maybe fifteen years ago. Lisa’s writing a book, by the way. She’s collecting stories. I’m sure she’ll hit you up for an interview soon.”
“Me?” Said Barb.
“Yes, definitely you,” said Tim. “It took me a while to get on board with Lisa’s idea, but it hit me about a year ago, just after I adopted Ammy. Everything I was doing was supposed to make me happy, but what made me happiest was seeing other people shine. It feels right.
I have the means to give kids what Dani wanted: horses. But that’s not really the point. After talking with Maeve and Todd, it all made sense. It isn’t only about getting kids time with horses; it’s about seeing them take up a challenge and shine.”
A lump hit Barb’s throat. “You knew Todd Allen?”
“I met with him a few times. You could say Ammy introduced us.” He laughed. “Todd mentioned you. He said you were his best student.”
Barb’s eyes welled at that. Neither of them spoke for a minute.
“Anyway,” Tim said, “I didn’t have much time with my little girl. I can’t make up for that.” Tim’s throat seemed to tighten because that last bit fell off at the end. Barb felt for him. The if-onlys were a bitch.
“I have the money and the time to give now,” Tim said. “Ammy reminded me that life is short. As a dog, she won’t be with me long either. This is what I can do now with what I have.”
He got quiet. Barb picked up the conversation for mercy’s sake, tucking the truck neatly behind a big rig to let a Mustang pass. “Well, Allen Haven Ranch is looking incredible! The students are going to have such a blast learning horsemanship, and so many other things, there.”
“Oh, I’m not done with it,” said Tim, knitting his fingers and stretching his arms above his head. “Every inch of that property will be utilized. I’ve been saving all these years, not for any reason, just keeping too busy to care. I can’t spend it all on myself and be any happier. I’m just glad I can do it,” he said.
When she glanced over at him, he was staring contentedly at the road ahead. She did the same.
A few moments later, he pulled out his phone, which was hooked up to the screen on the dash. He said, “Hey, have you heard this yet? This is the Allens’ son, Caleb.”
The music was good, really good, especially the song about Dani. She could tell that one was going to stay with her for a while. Tim kept the tunes rolling, taking Barb’s requests and playing some weird stuff he liked. Barb enjoyed some of it too. Six hours later, she was feeling at ease—until a few light water droplets turned into dark heavy rain.
It drummed loud on the steel of the cab and streamed in rivers around the manic motion of the wipers. The pouring rain and wind seemed to go on forever. About the time Barb was ready to stop the truck, get out, and swim, it seemed to clear. The wind kept bringing waves of pattering splashes, but there was light between the clouds now.
Tim was texting on his phone. He told her Caleb, and his girlfriend were on their way back from dropping off the last set of other people’s horses. They were headed south now on Highway 89A and would stop at Oak Creek Arabians to pick up the last three horses on their way to meet everyone at Mesa Verde Ranch.
“So, no horses for us to pick up tonight.” Barb stared at her hands on the steering wheel and sighed. At least she would get to meet Caleb and his girlfriend.
When they arrived at Mesa Verde, it was packed to overflowing. Several trailers were parked with horses tied to them. A muddy wet woman with two long gray braids splashed over to them, her knit brows overshadowing her smile. “You must be Maeve’s friends, our brave volunteers,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m Emily Tsotsie.”
They shook hands and introduced themselves. Emily pointed to a trailer where Barb saw a man stringing up hay nets in the light rain. “That’s my husband, Ken,” said Emily. “We’ll need help moving the horses once the rain lets up in the morning if you’re willing to stick around. This place is beyond their capacity, as you can see. Maeve has offered to take them all at Allen Haven, but that’s a trek. I might send some back with you, but I’m hoping to find a place closer for a few weeks.”
Barb and Tim both nodded at each other, then at Emily. “Of course we’ll stay,” said Barb. They had come all this way to help. They weren’t going to turn around and go back, empty handed.
Emily said, “We appreciate your help. Thank you so much! These horses are our life. The ranch’s owner is Jill Swanson, by the way.” She pointed. “She has the barn aisle set up with some lounge chairs and cots. I can make you a wrap if you’re hungry.”
Emily’s phone jingled. She looked up at them both. “Sorry. My daughter.” She put the phone up to her ear. Barb watched the other hand move to her mouth and heard Emily say, “Good gracious! Are you both okay?” As she walked away toward Ken.
A few moments later, Emily returned, looking pale, her cheeks sunken to a frown. There had been a rockslide on Highway 89A, just north of their ranch. The road was closed. Haseya and Caleb were hemmed in, stuck on the side of the mountain with the horse trailer for now, but they were okay.
“What about your three horses?” said Barb.
Emily’s eyes were red. She shook her head, shifted her feet, and looked around. Their trailer was blocked by three other trailers, all with horses tied to them. “They’re still in the barn. Haseya was going to be there with Caleb, and we have nowhere to put these horses.” She pointed to the horses tied to the trailer munching hay from their nets.
Barb studied the map on her phone and showed it to her. “It looks like we can still get there from here. I can go.”
Tim ducked in to look. “I’m in. Let’s go.”
Emily bowed her head into her steepled hands. “Thank you so much!”
She filled them in with details, who was who and where to find their halters. Next thing Barb knew, her heart was beating with purpose. She was back on the road driving toward Oak Creek Arabians, on a mission to save three precious horses named Sid, Sally, and Tito, from the rising water and possible flash flooding.
It seemed like a simple task, just five miles away on a back road, but as the sun dipped low and the clouds poured another dark shower, it was harder to see. Something moved over the road ahead. Barb suddenly slammed the brakes. The truck slid toward the center of the road and came to a wagging stop in front of a giant sycamore. It lay sprawled across both lanes. Its tangled branches and upturned roots appeared monstrous in the fading daylight.
Still a mile away from Oak Creek Arabians, they got out to inspect the tree. It wasn’t going anywhere. Not without a giant chainsaw.
Turning around on the road was no easy task with water rising in the ditches on both sides. Barb managed it after a few tense minutes of backing, adjusting, and pulling forward. Tim dialed 911 to report the tree while Barb found some reflectors behind the seats in the cab. She placed them on the road in front of the truck.
BRAAA! BRAAA! BRAAA!
A horrible warning sound came from both their phones. Tim read it aloud as Barb opened the cab door, “Flash flood warning. Mandatory evacuations along Oak Creek. Road closures at Highway 89A, Pine Street, and Indian Camp Road.”
“We can’t leave those horses,” said Barb. “I’m walking down there. You can stay here with the truck.”
“I’m with you,” said Tim. “You might need a hand, and I’ve got two.” He held them out to her.
They had one flashlight and a phone to light their way, but neither was much use finding submerged branches in the ditch as they waded through. As Barb finally climbed out of the ditch and put her first foot on solid pavement, she heard Tim yell, “Ow! Dammit!”
He had wedged a foot between a rock and a slippery branch and twisted his ankle. Apologizing, he step-hopped his way back to truck. More rain dumped onto their heads. Barb yelled back, “Stay here. I’m gonna keep going!”
She strode as fast as her short legs could take her. With the cold and rain pushing, it wasn’t long before she reached Oak Creek Arabians. The driveway was a mass of deep puddles. She could see the adobe barn on the left behind the house. It was lower on the property, nearer to the creek. The puddles merged to one big pond as she approached. She waded through up to her ankles. Three horses were watching from their paddocks, pacing in the water. The gray stood out in the darkness. That must be Sid.
Emily had described Sid as the gray, a gentle 28-year-old Arab gelding that should be easy to handle. Tito was a younger dark bay. He could be more trouble, but he would follow Sally, the palomino mustang mare, if she had any problems with him.
As Barb approached, she saw that all three were pacing halfway to their knees in the dark muddy water. She waded into the barn and found the tack room on the left, three halters and lead ropes on the wall, as expected. A long lunge line was hanging dusty in the corner. She waded over and hung it around her shoulder.
She noticed the back gates of the paddocks were wired shut, so when she saw a pair of nippers, she grabbed those too. These horses were nervous and wanted to be out of the water as much as she wanted to get them out. It would be enough of a challenge to control three unknown horses by herself without slogging through the barn aisle with water halfway up to her knees.
Barb snipped the wire for Sally’s gate first. After securing a halter on the mare’s soggy blonde head, she led her out with a lead rope. How am I going to lead three horses a mile down the road and get them through the deep ditch and mess of branches to the trailer?
“One problem at a time,” Barb told herself.
As she led Sally up the drive through the ever-more-connected puddles to the front gate, a plan began forming in her mind. She tied the mare to the wooden fence by the road and went back for the next. Sally’s deep maternal neighs from the fence brought on more urgent pacing from the others. The water around the horses churned with foam around their restless legs.
Tito sprung from the gate before she could halter him. He trotted, bouncing and splashing right to Sally. That’s fine, Barb thought. He won’t go far from the mare. She would catch him soon enough. At least the rain was lighter for the moment.
Quickly haltered and freed from the paddock, Sid pulled her down the drive toward Sally. If Barb were younger, she might have used his momentum to bounce from the ground and flip her leg over his back. But at fifty-three, she knew better. As it was, she leaned her right arm over his back and let his stride be hers, touching her toes down lightly until they reached Sally at the outer fence.
She tied Sid and took several minutes talking quietly and scratching Sally while Tito hovered nearby. Once he seemed calm enough, she moved away from the mare and turned sideways to the wandering gelding. She waited. Sure enough, Tito began to see her as the leader he wanted. He lowered his head, licked his lips, and relaxed his jaw as he walked up to her, submissive. He put his face up to the halter for her to secure around his head.
Barb sighed a long sigh. Okay, Barb. Now what?
She used the nippers to render the lunge line into two, then knotted a few hand loops into each, snapped the latch on one line to Tito’s halter and tied the other to Sid’s. She was safer riding the mare than trying to lead all three nervous animals, so she used Sally’s lead rope as reins, tying the loose end back to the halter. Finding a suitable rock to mount from, she looked up at the darkness, got a drop of rain in her eye, and slid onto the mare’s back.
Sally moved well off Barb’s leg pressure and sidled up to the fence without a problem, allowing her to untie the two geldings. Barb held the loops of line for both geldings in one hand, Sally’s lead-rope-turned-reins in the other. Don’t try this at home, kids.
The barefoot hooves made a satisfying rhythm on the pavement. Sally was steady. Barb kept her moving at a fast walk. Anything could happen. She had to keep her cool to keep theirs. A wave of rain passed over them, but luckily, no traffic came down the road.
In less than fifteen minutes they were at the fallen tree. Barb hooked the geldings’ loops over her arm, pulling out her phone to call Tim. But he was already at the tree. He flashed a light for her across the flooded ditch beyond the top of the tree where a line of thin branches was positioned with white plastic water bottle caps fastened to the ends. He’d been busy.
“I cleared a path for you,” he said, hobbling toward her on a sycamore branch crutch from the other side of the tree. “Stay just to the outside of the markers and you won’t get tangled in branches under the water.”
One by one, Barb splashed into the ditch and around the top of the tree, starting with Sid this time, while Tim held the other two across the tree’s trunk. All three horses made it through without a scratch and were soon snug in the trailer munching hay.
When they arrived at Mesa Verde, soaked to the bone and longing for hot coffee, there were cheers from the horse owners camped at their trailers. Emily shed tears and cooed at her horses as they unloaded them.
Barb soon learned that just minutes ago, the news had come over the internet: A flash flood washed out the entire southern part of Oak Creek Road. Water had risen beyond the fallen tree where Barb and Tim had been parked not twenty minutes before. The adobe barn at Oak Creek Arabians would be underwater.
Next
Part 4 | This Storm is Called Progress
11 - The Return
Behind-the-Scenes Extra
This chapter turned out to be longer than I expected, but Barb needed this, and I think Tim did too. Note that the names of roads in Sedona, aside from Highway 89A, are made up, and you won’t find these fictional horse ranches on any map.
These last chapters, while I know what needs to happen, are very much seat-of-the-pants stuff. Like Barb, I need to worry about the current problem and let the rest iron itself out as I get to it.
Two more chapters to go, or maybe three. It takes what it takes. I want a good strong ending as much as you do. To quote Scotty, “I’m giving it all she’s got, Captain!”
Try not to worry, brave readers.