Sullivan’s Trace by Ali Spooner

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Camille Graves sat on the front porch, staring across the railing at the approaching dust swirls. For the better part of the sixty years she had been alive, she had worked for Doc Barton and his family. She watched as a large red truck approached. The two-year drought showed no signs of letting up soon, and the image of the truck shimmered in the heat waves as she squinted against the sun’s brightness.

“That would be Miss Bryn,” Camille said to herself as the truck slowed and turned into the drive a few hundred yards away.

Miss Bryn would be Bryn Barton, Doc’s granddaughter, who was expected to arrive today. Camille had not seen her for almost five years, and she was excited to see the young woman.

Doc Barton had been the area’s veterinarian for over forty years and had built a reputation as the best large animal specialist in the south. He had brought some of the finest American Quarter Horses and thoroughbreds into this world. He would soon be passing on his practice to his granddaughter, Bryn, to finally go into full retirement. Since his wife’s passing five years ago, Doc Barton found that he had lost a step or two and was not able to put in the long hours and late nights like he used to. As he aged, it seemed like a prized foal or calf would often choose to be born between two and five in the morning, frequently after many hours of painful labor.

 

†

 

The flash of the hot sun reflected off the truck, catching the attention of Micah Sullivan, “Sully,” to her friends, as she climbed up to sit on the top rail of the corral fence.

“Damn, Glen, go easy on his mouth, will ya?” she barked from her perch.

“Sorry, Sully,” Glen said as he eased up on the reins.

“He’s got the instinct, so just sit back, hold on, and let him do the work,” Sully shouted.

It was never easy for her to train a new rider. The horses she bred were born with the instinct to herd cattle, but to compete and establish their reputation, they still needed a rider. Sully’s back injury a few years earlier prevented her from competing as much as she liked, hence the need for a quality trained rider. Glen was talented, and Sully had been working with him for over a year, but she still had to remind him to give the horse free rein to make the instinctive sharp movements of a cutting horse. All the rider had to do was point out the animal they wanted to be cut and separated from the herd, and then sit back and let the animal do the work.

Sully watched as the truck stirred up a cloud of dust as the owner maneuvered the hulking machine down the drive. Doc Barton had stopped by the previous day and informed her that his granddaughter would be arriving today to begin orienting to his practice in anticipation of his retirement. Even though Sully had joked with Doc, she knew the portly old man was weary and ready to retire. Still, Doc Barton was the best vet for hundreds of miles, and she would miss the comfort of knowing he would be available at the drop of a hat. He did his best to assure her that Bryn was competent and had gained valuable experience working at some of the country’s premier racetracks.

Sully watched the truck slow as it approached Doc’s house. She had taken over the management of Sullivan’s Trace three years earlier after the sudden death of her father. She was named after her grandfather, Micah Sullivan, an immigrant from Ireland who found work as a cowboy in Texas before relocating his small family to Florida.

The first Micah had an eye for quality horseflesh and began breeding some of the best American Quarter Horses in the states. His experience driving cattle in Texas also helped him train cutting horses, and his talents quickly became well-known across the southern states. His first grand champion, Sullivan’s Sun Dancer, became the root of his stock and sired numerous champions. With the birth of artificial insemination, the bloodlines would last for many generations.

Doc Barton had been out to complete a prebirthing check on one of the mares carrying a foal of the famed Sun Dancer. Much to her delight, Doc had informed her that the foal would be a colt, a rather large one. The size did worry him about the birthing process.

“He’s going to come out half grown at this rate,” Doc had said as he finished his examination. “I will give her two to three weeks left at the most,” he said as he removed the disposable gloves from his hands. “Bryn will be here just in time to help bring him into the world,” he said proudly.

“Are you sure she is ready to take on your practice?” Sully asked curiously.

Doc chuckled, which made his eyes sparkle brighter. “She is young, but her education is the best money can buy. Besides that, she still practices some of the timeless methods I taught her when she first graduated,” he added.

“I know you wouldn’t turn the practice over to just anyone,” she said.

“Just wait until you meet Bryn before you judge her based on youth. She is only two years younger than you,” Doc said with a mischievous grin.

“Point taken,” Sully said as she returned his smile. In a male-dominated world, she remembered the constant doubters who challenged her farm management when she first returned to take over.

Doc had been the farm’s vet as long as Sully could remember, and it would take some getting used to, having anyone else provide medical care to her stock. With a thousand acres and several hundred horses in her breeding stock, Sullivan’s Trace was a large account for Doc Barton, and he had proven to be an invaluable member of her team. Sully planned to send him into retirement with style as she prepared to expand her annual Fourth of July cookout with a surprise retirement celebration for Doc. Sully would serve up the best BBQ and steaks in the county and add a fireworks display. She had also ordered an exceptional gift for Doc, which would be delivered later this week. With Camille’s help, it would be an extraordinary celebration.

 

†

 

Bryn slowed as she approached the house. Besides a fresh coat of paint, it didn’t look any different from the last time she had been here. That was nearly five years ago when her grandmother had ended her year-long battle with cancer that had eroded her body from the inside out. She could still feel the pain in her grandfather’s eyes as the casket was lowered into the ground, and he said his final goodbye to the love of his life. Bryn knew the pain would never leave him, but she hoped the spark of life had returned to her grandfather’s eyes.

She smiled when she saw a slight figure rise from a rocking chair on the front porch and saunter toward the front steps. Camille had been a part of the family forever and had been a rock of support for Doc when his beloved had passed.

Bryn put the truck in park and switched the ignition off. She exited the truck and walked toward the house with a huge smile.

“It is so good to see you again, Camille,” she said as she reached to take the small woman in her arms.

Camille welcomed the embrace, saying, “I thought this day would never come. Your grandfather has been eagerly awaiting your arrival but got called away on an emergency a few hours ago.”

“How is he doing?”

“He has slowed down a bit but still tries to work from dawn until dusk,” Camille said with a chuckle. “Deep down, though, he is drained and ready to meet the retirement challenge.”

“I hope my presence here will allow him the confidence to do just that,” Bryn said, her arm slipping around Camille’s waist as they walked onto the porch.

“Can I pour you some iced tea?” Camille asked as Bryn sat in one of the rockers.

“That would be fantastic. I have found nothing better to beat this summer heat than a glass of your sweet tea.”

Camille chuckled as she handed Bryn the cool glass. “Just as smooth a talker as your grandfather, I see.”

“It must be a family trait,” Bryn said as she smiled and took a long drink.

She lowered her glass and looked across the lawn at the heat waves radiating from the ground. “How long has it been since it rained?”

“Six weeks and counting,” Camille said. “Every now and then, dark clouds form, giving us hope of at least a shower, but just as quickly as they form, they disappear without a drop of rain.”

“That must be really tough on the farmers in the area.”

“The corn’s bone dry, and the beans are wilting in the heat. Lake levels have dropped dangerously low, so the farmers can’t use the water to irrigate like they have in the past.”

Bryn gazed at the dancing heat waves until the metal clanking sound of a gate rang in the silence, and she looked off to the right.

“Is that still Sullivan’s Trace?” she asked.

“Yes, it is. Old man Sullivan died a few years back, and Micah returned home to take over the running of the farm, and the breeding and training program,” Camille said as she watched Bryn closely.

“I still remember the summer I spent here as a kid when Micah and I became friends, only to dissolve once the summer ended and I went home,” Bryn said.

“That was the year your father had surgery, wasn’t it?” Camille asked.

“Yes, right after his heart attack. I was twelve years old, and my parents brought me here to live with my grandparents while Dad recuperated from open heart surgery.”

Bryn squinted against the bright sun. She could make out a figure sitting atop the corral fence and wondered what Micah would be like now. Micah was two years older than she, and Bryn had worshipped her that summer. Camille would pack her a lunch, and then Bryn and Micah would ride horses or swim during the day, and darkness would fall before she returned home for dinner.

“How is Micah doing?” Bryn asked curiously.

“She’s doing fine as far as I can tell,” Camille said. “She had an accident a few years ago, which left her unable to ride as much as she would like, but she immerses herself in the management of the farm.”

Bryn could tell that Camille was impressed with Micah, too.

“Too much so, sometimes I fear,” Camille added.

“Why do you say that?”

“She has a mile-long waiting list for her horses and doesn’t take time out for herself at all. It’s just work, work, work,” Camille chided. “Just like someone else I know will probably do.”

Bryn smiled, knowing that, at least at first, she would work long hours until she had fully assessed her grandfather’s practice to determine their needs. “Once I get into the swing of things, I promise I will try to take it easy.”

“Boy, have I heard that song and dance before,” Camille said with a deep chuckle.

“Is Sullivan’s Trace still the major customer for Grandfather?” she asked.

“Most definitely, he spends most of his time over there,” she said as she looked toward the neighboring farm.

“Good, at least I will be close to home.”

“That you will,” Camille said. “Why don’t you bring your bags in while I tend to dinner,” she suggested. “I expect your grandfather to be home in an hour or so, and I usually try to have dinner ready for him.”

“No wonder he’s so spoiled if you treat him like that,” Bryn teased.

“Your family has been very good to me. After my Herbert passed and I moved out here, they treated me like family,” she said with a tone of appreciation.

“You have always been family,” Bryn said as she stood and hugged Camille. “As soon as I finish unpacking, I will come down to check on you,” she promised.

“Child, I have been cooking for that old man since before you were born,” Camille said with a laugh. “I know exactly how he likes his food, but you can come and keep me company.”

“As long as I stay out of your way in the kitchen, is that what you are saying?” Bryn asked with a grin.

“Exactly,” Camille answered and disappeared into the house.

Bryn walked to the truck and filled her arms with luggage to carry into the house. It was a two-story home, much too large for such a small family, but her grandfather would not even discuss moving into something smaller. He could not bear to leave the home of so many beautiful memories behind. Bryn climbed the steps and pushed open the door to her old room.

Camille had placed fresh linens on the bed, and Bryn walked across the room to put the luggage down at the foot of the bed. She looked at the double French doors and walked over to them. With a quick twist of the knobs, Bryn opened the door to a small private balcony that looked out toward the Trace. Just as she had remembered, Bryn smiled to herself. So many mornings were spent sitting in the rocker, waiting until the sun rose so she could begin the next grand adventure with Micah.

The thought of her old friend sent a strange sensation of warmth through her body. Surprised by her body’s reaction, she shook her shoulders and returned inside to put away her clothing.

 

†

 

Sully stepped gingerly off the fence and followed Glen into the stables. “Be sure to give him a good rubdown after you remove his tack,” she said as she turned to leave the barn.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said as he walked the young stallion into the stables.

Sully stopped and turned back toward Glen. “You did a good job today, Glen.”

“Thanks, Sully, that means a lot coming from you,” he said with pride.

She returned his smile as she started for the house.