Page 59 of All We Thought We Knew
While he and Nash chatted about the weather, I surreptitiously studied Fred as he slowly ran his hand up and down Jake’s back. Jake, for his part, sat completely still, with his eye half closed, enjoying the attention.
Although Nash said Fred was only a couple years older than us, his face looked as haggard as Dad’s. Thin and balding, I would’ve guessed him to be much older. It didn’t seem fair that he’d suffered so much in his life. Without family to help care for him, I wondered what the future held for the man.
“I heard Kenny Beckman was killed last week.” Fred’s voice held a grim tone. “You probably don’t remember him, but he played tight end for the Wildcats back in the day. Left a wife and two kids.”
I felt out of place as the two former soldiers discussed the situation in Vietnam. They talked about battles and officers and places I’d never heard of, forcing me to acknowledge that maybe I didn’t know as much about the war as I liked to think. Sure, I read news articles and listened to speeches given by leaders at protest rallies,but being in a room with men who’d been there was eye-opening in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
Their conversation switched to the farm and preparations for winter.
“Now that the sun’s finally out, the horses that have been cooped up in their stalls will need some exercise.” Nash glanced at me, as though inviting me to join the discussion. “Right, Mattie?”
“Yes,” I said, smiling when Fred glanced my way. “I’ve always loved riding in autumn. The air is crisp, and the hills are covered in fall colors.”
Instead of returning the smile, Fred grew solemn. “I used to ride when we’d visit my grandparents in Kentucky. They had a small place, but it was out in the country. My cousins and I would saddle up and be gone for hours.” He turned away. “Guess I’ll never do that again.”
I glanced at Nash, feeling as though I’d said something wrong.
He quickly changed the subject to the furnace in the cabin, asking for Fred’s opinion on gas versus electric since the heater would need to be replaced. But my mind stayed on the previous conversation and the sad fact that Fred would never ride a horse again.
In the year I’d been away, I’d missed the freedom I experienced every time I took Moonlight out for a ride. Big city living was exciting at first, but even though I’d tried to forget my life in Tennessee, the longing to fly across the green hills on the back of a horse never left me. I couldn’t imagine living the rest of my life without ever being astride a horse again.
I peeked at Fred.
I’d never known someone who couldn’t walk and had to use a wheelchair. I had no idea what it was like to wake up every morning and face the limitations and confinement of a situation like his. It must be a daily struggle to endure the challenges and disappointments of living life without the use of your legs.Although I believed things would be far different if he hadn’t gone to Vietnam, my opinion on the war wasn’t important to Fred. He had far greater issues to deal with.
I tapped my finger on the armrest.
Nash was obviously a good friend to Fred. Jake was too, from the looks of it. He’d curled up at Fred’s feet and snored softly while the men talked. And even though I didn’t know the Grahams, it sounded like they truly cared about Fred and the others.
What about me?
I’d just met the man, yet his story had touched me in a way I hadn’t expected. For more than a year, I’d been drowning in my own grief and loss. I hadn’t come up for air yet when Dad’s telegram found me. The thought of losing Mama was unbearable.
Yet meeting Fred, hearing his pain, reminded me that I wasn’t the only one with scars.
I tapped my finger again.
I may not know as much about people and the world as I’d thought just that morning, but what I did know about was horses. Tennessee walking horses, to be specific. With their smooth, easy gait and pleasant personalities, our Tennessee walkers could easily adapt to each rider’s specific needs. I’d seen young children, elderly people, and everyone in between learn to ride on the docile animals. It’s why the breed was so popular.
“Why not?” I said out loud before I’d thought through the idea swirling in my head.
Both men looked at me.
“Why not, what?” Nash asked.
I moistened my lips, hoping that what I was about to say wouldn’t offend the man in the wheelchair. “Why can’t you ride a horse again?”
Nash shot me a look of warning, but Fred’s eyes narrowed when our gazes met.
“I think it’s pretty obvious.”
I swallowed hard. There was no turning back now. “I’ve been around horses all my life. I could barely walk when I started riding. Mama likes to tell the story about when I was a toddler and climbed up on a horse all by myself. Scared her half to death when I went tearing down the road on its back.”
Neither man smiled at the endearing tale, so I plunged on.
“What I’m saying is, if a child who can’t reach the stirrups can ride a horse, why can’t someone who’s full grown but can’t walk do the same thing?”
I glanced at his legs for the first time since entering the house. Bony and toothpick-thin beneath his jeans, I could only guess his muscles had deteriorated since his injury. But if he could just get in the saddle—
