Jill
Miranda and I climb in the truck for the drive to Billings, hoping that we can track down the driver that she and the boys rescued last night. I hate to think what would have happened if that horse hadn't shown up. The poor guy might have frozen to death out there.
As we drive, Miranda fiddles with the radio until she finds a song she likes, humming along and fingering chords. It's familiar, one that Miranda plays at night when she thinks no one is listening. I've developed a habit of leaving the bedroom door slightly cracked so I can hear her play.
I'm so glad she found that guitar in the back of the closet. I had nearly forgotten it was there until I heard Miranda playing it one day. At first, it hurt to hear it. It reminded me too much of Eddie, who had left it behind when he went into the Army. "Don't worry, Mom." He had told me. "I'll come back for it."
He'd been sent into the jungles of a faraway place called Vietnam and never returned. Earl still doesn't want to talk about it, gets a pained expression every time he passes Eddie's picture on the mantle. Eddie's smiling proudly in his dress uniform, his previously shaggy blond hair cut in a standard Army cut. I know Earl regrets letting Eddie go, but had such a strong sense of duty and honor that he had passed on to his only son that it was the only thing he could do.
Having music in the house again lifts my spirits, and Earl's too, though he grumbles that the girl stays up too damn late. She has talent, and has even started writing her own songs. She doesn't think much of her own work, and often puts it aside in favor of other people's. But it's coming along, and I keep encouraging her to keep at it. It gives her something to do other than work around the house.
We arrive at the hospital and make our way to the front desk. A receptionist gives us a bright smile. "Good morning, how can I help you?"
"We're looking for a young man that was admitted last night." I begin. "Single vehicle accident out on the county road."
"Do you have a name?"
I shake my head and Miranda jumps in. "He was young, white, with red hair and blue eyes. His face was all cut up."
"Let me call down to the emergency room to see if they know anything." The receptionist replies smoothly and picks up the phone. I know it's unlikely that anyone is still there from the previous night, but I wait anyway.
"You're in luck." She tells us as she replaces the receiver. "They moved him to a room last night."
She writes down the room number and hands it to me, and we find our way there, meeting up with Mike, one of the sheriff's deputies. "Good morning, Mike."
"Morning, Jill, Miranda." His eyes linger a little longer on Miranda before shifting back to me. "We're still trying to ID our victim. He didn't have anything on him when they brought him in."
We enter the room, where the young man lays in the bed, eyes closed, one eye swollen shut and bruised, cuts all over his face, his breathing labored. I hear Miranda let out a little gasp, and he opens his eyes as best he can, squinting as his eyes adjust to the light.
"Glove…glove…" he manages to get out, though I have no idea what he's talking about.
"I think he's trying to say something." Miranda speaks up.
"In the truck…the glove…" the young man speaks again, a little louder.
"The glove box?" Miranda asks, and he nods.
"Yeah, the glove box." He leans back and exhales, wincing in pain.
Mike starts to ask him a few questions, and the young man seems genuinely surprised to find out where he is. "I…have no idea why I'm here."
Mike asks him about the girl, and assures him that they'll keep looking for her before handing him a card and telling him to call if he thinks of anything else.
"We'll check the glove box and bag and see what else we come up with." Mike tells me and Miranda.
With that Mike leaves, and I pull up a chair next to the bed. "It took quite a bit of doing to track you down. I'm Jill, and this is Miranda. She's part of the group that found you last night."
He nods at Miranda, who nods back before pulling out an object from her coat and handing it to the young man. He seems to recognize it almost immediately, his eyes going a little wider, his breath getting short, his hands shaking.
"Where's my horse?" His voice has an edge of panic to it.
We look at each other before I ask him, "Can you describe it?"
"Big and black. A stallion."
"That's the one." Miranda quickly tells me. "The one that showed up last night."
"Is he okay?"
"He's okay." I assure him. "The boys managed to get him into the barn, and the vet checked him over this morning. He's nearly as lucky as you are."
He lets out a breath, clutching the piece of the trailer tightly. "He's…tough to handle."
Miranda lets out a short laugh, and I give her a sharp look that stops her. I turn back to the young man, assuring him that his horse is in good hands. "We'll hold on to him until you can come get him. Don't worry about anything else but getting better."
"Thank you." He replies softly, staring down at the piece of trailer. I lightly touch his shoulder as I rise from the chair, hoping to assure him that he isn't alone, that someone is looking out for him.
We leave the hospital and begin the drive back to the ranch, worry gnawing at me. If the young man is truly out here all by himself, far from home, he'll need somewhere to stay while he recovers. It only makes sense that he comes to the Lost and Found, since we have his horse. I had already decided that before I came up here, despite Earl's protestations.
But I know that Earl doesn't really mind that much. He's gotten used to the parade of young people that have passed through. In a way, it keeps him from missing Eddie too much. And the kids have mostly become good workers. Brice and Jason come to mind.
Brice is a good kid, a little goofy. His boisterous personality is a stark contrast to Jason's quieter countenance. Somehow, though, they seem to get along. They're close, closer than two men should be, Earl thinks. He's always thought something wasn't quite right about Brice. I will admit he's not the smartest person I've ever met, but he's a hard worker, steadfast and loyal almost to a fault. He's brought his share of people to the ranch, hitchhikers he's picked up between here and Billings in need of a warm bed and a hot meal. It's as if he can't help himself.
Jason is special to him, though. It's obvious to anyone who pays a lick of attention. Whether they're just close friends or something more, I can't entirely tell. I suppose that as long as they're happy, it doesn't matter. They've been good for each other.
I glance over at Miranda, who appears deep in thought. Her lips are pressed together, a slight frown creasing her forehead. I can't imagine what must be on her mind.
Finally, she looks over at me. "Do you suppose they'll find his family?"
"I'm sure they will, dear." I assure her, though I wonder the same.
She falls silent again until we return to the ranch. We start making preparations for supper, working together chopping, stirring, baking. In her time here, Miranda's become a skilled cook, and seems to enjoy the whole process. She doesn't even seem to mind the clean-up, my least favorite part.
Soon enough supper's ready, and I call the bunkhouse to let the boys know. As we're all sitting down, there's a knock at the door. I hear Earl's voice and what sounds like Mike. He must have found some information on the young man.
"Come on in, Mike." I tell him. "I'll set you a place."
He removes his hat and coat, easing into a spot at the table next to Miranda. She shifts away slightly, looking uncomfortable at his presence. Jason's eyes never leave Mike as we start passing dishes around the table.
"I assume you've got some news." Earl starts.
"Yes, sir." Mike nods. "Found the guy's wallet in the glove box, just like he said. Found his bag, too. Looks like he was prepared for at least a few days on the road. Ran the plates on the truck, too. It's registered to a farm in upstate New York."
Mike took a bite and swallowed before continuing. "Guy's name is Alexander Ramsey. Address on his driver's license is the same as on the truck registration. I assume he's part of the farm operation. Hopeful Farm is the name of the place."
Brice's eyes go wide, as if he recognizes the name. "Holy shit." He blurts out, and everyone turns to look at him. He turns bright red and stares down at his plate.
"Do you know him?" Mike asks.
Brice shakes his head. "I follow horse racing. Alexander Ramsey's real well known in Thoroughbred racing. Hopeful Farm has raised a whole mess of champion horses." He suddenly appears to have a thought. "That stallion we've got out in the barn? If he's the one I'm thinking of…goddamn, goddamn."
"Mike, have you been able to get hold of Alexander's family?" I ask. "Surely they're looking for him."
"Not yet." Mike answers. "I contacted the sheriff's department in the area. He and the horse were reported missing five days ago."
"He might not want to be found." Jason speaks up. "Might have run off for a reason."
"I'm going back up to the hospital to talk to him tomorrow." Mike nods. "See if I can get more out of him."
We move on to other topics, still absorbing the information Mike has shared. I can only imagine why someone like Alexander would want to run so far from home. Having met so many young people over the last few years, I know that everyone has their reasons, and everyone needs a safe place to land. Perhaps I can provide that for Alexander if he needs it.
Later that night, I lay down next to Earl, leaving the door slightly cracked, as usual. It's unusually quiet, and I figure maybe Miranda has already turned in. Earl sighs and pulls me close to him. "We're about to get us another houseguest, aren't we?"
I laugh softly. Earl's already resigned himself to the situation, even though it hasn't happened yet. "We'll see what happens. Might be he'll just be good and ready to go home."
"Ah, hell, Jilly." Earl speaks affectionately. "We'll welcome him with open arms. Could use another good horse guy around here."
And with that Earl falls asleep, snoring softly. Through the cracked door, I hear Miranda softly strumming her guitar, singing that same song we heard on the radio, and all seems right with the world for the time being.