Serenity Falls(3)
About an hour later, Garth Brooks’ Rodeo blares through the speakers as I pull onto an old gravel road. For eight miles, my Jeep hits pothole after pothole, tossing me around like a rag doll. With the top down and the doors off, the warm, summer air funnels in all around me. My long, brown hair whips me in the face, sticking to the corners of my mouth. Slowing down, I pull up to an arched, black, wrought iron sign reading Serenity Falls. I punch in the code to open the gates. As they swing wide, I inch my Jeep through. Large, rolling hills covered in green grass surround me on either side. These thirty acres of land in the middle of the Texas hill country have become a second home to me—my little piece of Heaven. I came here last summer as a volunteer to help disabled children. I watched as they bonded with the horses and learned how to ride. The impact it had on me was life altering, and that’s why I’m back.
The owners, Mr. and Mrs. Adams, are great. They started a not-for-profit organization that helps children with disabilities ranging from muscular dystrophy to depression. What I love the most are the smiles I get to see and the relationships I form with the children.
Shortly after my parents died, I slipped into a deep depression. Everybody at school treated me as if I were made out of glass. I no longer participated in sports. I quit talking to my friends. Hell, I pretty much stopped talking all together. That’s when my Aunt Brenda found this horse ranch in Conroe and asked if I wanted to take lessons. Well, actually, I didn’t have much of a choice, since she dragged me out there anyway. And honestly, it was the best thing she could’ve ever done for me. She saved me in more ways than I can count. I found myself again.
Pulling up in front of a red, weathered, wooden barn, I park and jump out of the Jeep. Vines with bright, white flowers crawl up the front panels, sprawl out, and cover the front of the wooden structure. When I take a deep breath, the smell of honeysuckle drifts through the wind and brings a smile to my face.
I enter the breezeway of the barn in search for the one thing I’ve been waiting to see since last summer. Autumn! Her brown and white spots are vibrant, and her long, white mane looks like silk. She’s still the most beautiful Appaloosa that I have ever seen.
Clicking my tongue, I call her over to me. “Autumn, come here, girl.” A brown satchel filled with apples hangs from a hook outside her stall. The old, worn leather rustles against the wooden beam as I reach in to retrieve the delicious, red fruit. Autumn’s head whips in my direction as I click my tongue again, wave the apple at her, and coax her over to me.
Grabbing hold of the bridle, I hold her to me, caressing her muzzle as I feed her the apple. “I’ve missed you so much. Are you ready to have another exciting summer?” I ask in a singsong voice. Caught up in the moment of the reunion with my favorite horse, I’m startled when I hear a man speak.
“She won’t be riding around here much this summer. She’s pregnant.”
The voice to my right brings a wide smile to my face. Standing beside me, in his worn, Wrangler jeans, dark, blue, long-sleeved, button-down shirt, cowboy boots, and his salt-and-pepper hair is Mr. Adams. “Mr. Adams. Hey. How have you been?” I ask, excited to see him.
“I’ve been good, Miss Briggs. How about yourself?”
I smile at him before turning my attention back to the horse. “You know to call me Kenleigh. But I’ve been good. I just finished my freshman year of college at UTSA.”
“And Kenleigh, you know to call me Will. After last summer, you’re like family around here.”
I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from the majestic horse. “Thanks. So, Autumn is pregnant, huh?”
“Yep, she is. Due sometime this summer, but don’t worry. I have two new Appaloosas down at the other end of the barn. Maybe you could help me get them broken in. My son’s coming home for the summer and said he’d help too. Walk with me,” he says, nodding toward the end of the barn once I turn my attention to him.
After handing Autumn one more apple, I reluctantly let go of her bridle and stroll down to see Will’s two new pride and joys. I pass by eight other stalls, which house two Paints with their own distinctive markings, two Palominos, one, cream colored and the other, brown, and three Pintos all with their own unique color patterns. “So, how’s Mrs. Adams?”
“She’s good. As soon as she saw you pull up and jump out of the Jeep, she called me to say that you were here. That woman knew you’d come in here lookin’ for Autumn. I told her I’d come getcha. She’s been dying to see you. Don’t tell her that I showed you these horses first, though. I’d never hear the end of it,” he says with a smile. The faint lines around his eyes wouldn’t give away the fact that he works from sun up to sun down.