Bridge Called Hope (16 page)

I pulled up into a line of trucks and trailers whose drivers were waiting their turn. All were needed to swing their rigs around and back them up an enormous distance to snug their full trailers directly against the corrals where the horses they carried would spend the night. While waiting, my emotions teetered as if on a high wire, balancing atop all my dichotomous feelings. My head acknowledged that being adopted tomorrow would probably make for one of the best days of their lives. Yet my intuition continued to cry out like a herald, warning of one improbable and negative outcome after another.

Although cleared, what happens if these “buyers” do not have the best of intentions for these horses? This is exactly how the offending couple was able to start what became this present suffering herd. What happens if the buyers are well-intended
but inexperienced with wild horses? A year from now, they could sell their horses to someone who appears nice, but who could ultimately turn around and sell them to a meat buyer if they chose to. What happens if these horses are placed in proximity with someone’s children? The children could be unintentionally hurt or even killed by these wary, frightened animals who, apart from most of the ICU horses, are still too wild to handle.
Lord, let Your wisdom fall
 … I prayed while rubbing my brow.

It was now my turn to back up my trailer the crazy distance that separated the line of trucks from the temporary corrals. With all the eyes of the Sheriff’s Department and volunteers watching, I was suddenly grateful that years of living on a tiny ranch had served me well through the necessity of being able to back up anything, anywhere.

Once my horses were settled into their respective corrals, I parked my truck and sought out my special filly. Although I had pushed it down for months, the very real possibility surfaced within me that this could very well be my last day with her. Other buyers were coming who had far more financial power than I. It was possible that the resources I had to purchase this filly … would not be enough.

Understanding the situation from afar, some very dear friends of mine sent financial help all the way from their home in England with the intention of facilitating her purchase. In deepest appreciation of their thoughtful gift, I asked them if they would choose the honor—if it worked out that she would become ours—to name this humble little soul. They responded by sending me several potential name choices. One of their name possibilities instantly rose above all the others. In silence, I hid it within my heart.

All of the preparations for the auction had been completed. Every horse had been moved into the appropriate corral and fitted with a nylon collar that held their bidding number. Every form was filled out, every security measure was in place, all was ready for the horses to be released into a new season. Even though I had helped with many of these tasks and
knew
these things to be true … fear continued to swamp my heart.

Of all my watery “what ifs,” my deepest pool of doubt contained only one question: “What if someone else buys my girl?” Even with the added gift from my friends, the outcome of this auction was wide open. Not being a woman of great financial means … it was certainly possible.

Hundreds of people were coming from all over the Northwest to buy these horses. The parking area at the fairgrounds was already beginning to fill with trucks pulling large … expensive … horse trailers. Truly, this was the point, the purpose of why so many of us worked so hard to get these refugees prepared for a better life, a new hope. This is what I wanted for
all
the horses … all but one.

My heart warped with the painful realization that my precious little horse, the least of the least that had survived so much, might not come home with me. Today might possibly be the last day that I would know her, and know she was safe … and that every stinking hair on her homely body was thoroughly and completely loved.

Lord, probably every person who steps up into the stadium with a bidding card tomorrow will have more in their pocket than I have. Any one of them could outbid me for my beloved filly. I love her so much, Lord … help me to rest in Your will, knowing that You will choose what is truly best for her. You have proven throughout my entire life that You are faithful … that You are worthy to be trusted.
No matter what happens, if she goes home in my trailer or someone else’s … I trust You, Lord … because I know that You love her more.

After I had spent as much time as I could with my little girl in this new corral, and had given her all the compassion I had … it was time for me to leave her side.
Surround her, Lord, with all your protection, grace, and love
, I prayed. I secured her gate behind me and quietly walked away. I clearly understood that this might very well be our last moment together.

Early the next morning, rays of sunlight shattered the early gray skies with brilliant, golden spears rising like arrows from the frozen horizon. Today was the day. I was completely brimming with anticipation and fulfillment for all that was to come.

Together, the volunteers had worked hard for months to bring these horses back from the brink of destruction. Today would be the satisfying conclusion of all our combined efforts. I was settled, and my heart was full of peace.

I walked down the hill from our home into the main yard of the ranch and met many of my faithful and warmly dressed staff. We circled together, joining gloved hands, and prayed as a team for the well-being and correct placement of every horse. Frozen breath rose from our circle like the welcome, steaming aroma of our prayers rising toward the Lord. I couldn’t help but imagine, as I often do: Were God’s hands around us … cradling us close to His face … just as we hold a steaming drink on a freezing day? It’s an image that always makes me smile.

It was time. We all loaded up into the ranch truck and carefully pulled down the hill. Our spirits soaring, wide-open hope
was as apparent and easy to see as the symbol that we pulled behind us … our empty horse trailer.

The lively, metallic chatter of the auctioneer was punctuated by the animated whoops and hollers of the spotters as they raised their clipboards high with every new bid that came from the full stadium. The main arena at the fairgrounds had been transformed with a maze of metal panels into what turned out to be a very efficient way of making each horse, when its turn to be purchased arrived, easy to view and available to the buyers. The enormous awning, which in the summer gave welcome shade for the seated spectators, on this day cast a broad-mantled shadow that was nearly too cold for many to endure. Most of the buyers and their families sat on coats, blankets, and even bidding cards to help insulate their backsides from the bone-chilling cold of the shiny metal bleachers. But even as cold as it was, any discomfort it might have brought was no match for the bright mood of this day.

Every volunteer was in place, assisting in some specific way to help smooth out the flow of the event. In truth, little could have kept us away from helping our extended family of horses make the transition into their new homes.

The mature stallions were auctioned off first, followed by the adult mares. To the joy of those in the stadium, two mares had already successfully delivered their foals. To the relief of the volunteers, all were healthy. I knew that the young fillies would be next, followed by the colts. The last corrals of horses to be auctioned off would be those who were transported from the intensive care facility. Their makeshift corrals were located
far to the right of the stadium. Later, this would mean that anyone who wished to bid on them would have to leave their seat and walk down to the simple maze of corrals to get a better look at these “special need” horses.

I would have to wait to the very end of the day … to know my answer.

All the volunteers were briefed as to how the auction would flow. We knew that the bidding would start at what would be considered fair-market value for each individual. If no one bid on the horse, it would be returned to its former corral, and after the main auction was finished, a “half price” auction would be instated to help sell the “less sellable” horses.

After many hours and many horses being processed through the main arena, it was clear that approximately seven out of ten horses were finding a home their first time in the ring.

The auction was winding down. It was nearly time for the “ICU” horses to be sold. Because these were blind, or severely lame, or ruthlessly starved, they were to be auctioned off directly from their private corrals that had been constructed the day before. Even though all these horses were improved, for some the stress of walking too far was more strain than we wished to enforce on them. At this stage in their recovery, it was easier to have the potential buyers walk the short distance down to them.

The auctioneer announced that those with a special benevolence for the ICU horses would need to leave the stadium and file down toward the horses’ corrals. I was amazed and deeply pleased to see how many individuals came down and gathered around “the hospital” in hopes of purchasing the most needy horses of the event.

I left my post-position as a volunteer … to become a bidder.
After climbing up and finding a seat on top of a confluence of metal panels, I was better able to look over the crowd and see which horse was being auctioned. Because these horses could not be individually presented to the group, the group was required to crowd around each pen as they were being auctioned off.

As fate would have it, the auctioneer started at the far end of the makeshift ICU ward. That meant that “my” horse would be sold next to last.

The auction staggered on with the brutal lethargy of a slug going up hill. I am certain that I could actually see my own hair growing longer! Waiting for the moment of revelation—would I have more days to love this little waif, or not?—was by now a painful process. Would I drive away from this place with an empty trailer … or one filled with the skinniest, furriest, stinkiest, most lovable little horse I had ever seen?

“Number 567 … number 567 … a bay filly is next!” The auctioneer’s words jolted through my chest like electricity …

This is it
, I thought to myself. The auctioneer began: “The bidding will start at … at … hmm. Well this little lady sure needs a home, so the bidding will start at one hundred dollars. Do I hear one-twenty-five? One-twenty-five? One-twenty-five? …”

Slightly huddled against the cold, she stood before them all wearing the most common color a horse can have. She looked more like a half-sheep, half-horse apparition than something anyone would want to buy. She was so unsightly, so pathetic, so unlovely … that the crowd was silent … 
dead
silent. Not one person signaled a bid. The only sounds to be heard among the multitude came from folks quietly blowing into their cold hands and rubbing them together for warmth.

There she stood … within the midst of a large crowd … and
not one
person wanted her. I couldn’t help but wonder, “Of all these people, was there no one else?” I smiled broadly as I thought to myself, “I will be that one, I will be the
one
girl who loves the ugly, skinny, furry, stinky little horse.”

Before I could raise my number, the auctioneer jerked to a new level of droning melodrama. “
One hundred twenty-five!
Do I hear one-fifty? One-fifty? One-fifty?” Immediately I noticed a man who had apparently been scratching his head and had accidentally been mistaken for casting a bid. He was desperately trying to get the auctioneer’s attention and convince him it was all a mistake! He made it urgently clear to those around him that he did
not
want a horse that looked like her!

I
did
want her! Raising my numbered bidding card over my head, I waved it like a checkered flag at the end of a grueling race … for to me, that’s exactly what it was. “One hundred fifty once … twice … 
Sold!
For one hundred and fifty dollars to the happy woman on the fence!”

“God, You are so good!” I said, as I slipped down off the panels, into the crowd. A man, hearing me and recognizing that I had just purchased the ugly horse in front of him, turned around and looked at me as if I had
two heads!
I smiled at him as I made my way through the crush toward
my
horse’s corral. Prohibited from entering until the crowds moved away, I reached through the panels and ran my hand down as much of her neck as I could reach. Her head was not far from me. While looking into her eye nearest me, I realized that I hadn’t dared until now to speak her name out loud … my precious “Phoenix” was coming home!