A Crazy Good Idea

 By Abby B. age 14

#3 Two Stallions

The true story of how Flint Hadley came to stay on the Circle C…

 

“You’re crazy, and I hope you know that.”

“Crazy?” Flint smiled at his closest friend. “No. Full of good ideas, that’s all.”

“Going on some fancy 'venture' to work as a ranch hand?” Ernest shook his head. “Flint, you’ve barely had any experience.”

“I have too-”

“Not enough to count.”

Flint sighed. “Well, what else am I supposed to do then?”

“I don’t know!” Ernest sounded upset. “Maybe get a normal job. Work in a store or something like that. What high and mighty rancher would hire you?”

“I don’t know,” Flint shrugged. “But I might as well try. I don’t have many other options, Ernest. This is what I want to do. I could get better.”

“And what if it goes wrong?” His friend demanded. “What happens then? I don’t have any other friends, Flint. What am I supposed to do?”

“Find new ones?” Flint cocked his head with a small smile.

“You didn’t answer my first question.”

“Well,” he paused for a moment, considering his answer. “Even if it does go wrong… I mean, what else do I have left to lose?”

 

###

 

It had been a long road.

From a very young age, Flint had been on his own. After his mother had passed away, his father ran, not wanting to care for a child that would supposedly “burden” him.

So he’d made his own life for himself, working where he could and making money as best as a young boy was able. Everywhere he went, it seemed the sorrow never stopped.

When he came to a small town a few years back, he befriended another his age, Ernest. That’s where he stayed for as long as he could.

But for Flint, it didn’t take long for the scenery to get old. For his heart to want - yearn - for something more.

The idea of being a ranch hand came to him on a whim – strange because he was not a lover of horses, but he couldn’t shake it. It would make sense, given all the ranches that were in need of good help. He had some experience, back from his younger years where he worked for a rancher with a small spread.

Wasn’t some experience good enough?

Besides, it never hurts to try. He didn’t truly care so much anymore. He was ready for something new, and if it ended up killing him, so be it.

His mother had said he was brave. His father had told him he was insane.

Maybe he could be a bit of both.

After all, those qualities were good when it came to being a ranch hand. Weren’t they?

 

###

 

“Be careful.”

“I’m going to be.”

“Don’t trust anyone that doesn’t look like they could be.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“And… don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Ernest said, meeting his gaze for the first time that day.

“I’ve already broken that rule then,” Flint placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, smirking. “I’ll be fine. You have to trust me on this.”

“But I don’t,” Ernest shook his head. “And that’s honestly what worries me. You tend to be reckless, Flint. Jumping into things you don’t exactly understand.”

“I know.” He was well aware of that fact. “But I have to do this.”

“Just know,” Ernest said, “that you’ll always find a place here, if things don’t go as planned. And remember to fill me in on your adventures.”

“You could come with me, you know.”

“Nah,” Ernest smiled. “You do you, and I’ll do my boring work with my father. That’s where I belong, Flint. That’s where I’m staying.”

“I hope I can find something like that.”

“Oh, you will,” Ernest straightened and started to turn away. “I have no doubt about that. I mean, you’ve never been someone who gives up.”

“I guess,” Flint shrugged. “Goodbye, Ernest. I’ll visit as soon as I’m able.”

“You’d better,” Ernest sighed. “I’ll miss you. But you have to do what you have to do, right?”

“Right.”

“Good luck, Flint Hadley. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

 

###

 

I really am going to die out here.

He knew it was a depressing thought – something that rarely came to his “overly optimistic” mind – but he couldn’t really help it.

He’d run out of supplies yesterday.

Which meant it was only a matter of time before he faced the harsh reality of starvation and dehydration.

Such an enjoyable prospect.

Now it was only a matter of what to do… and probably also what not to do. He could keep wandering – try his luck out here and hope for a miracle. Or he could attempt to find someone.

You really did have to do the first option to get the second.

He squinted at the horizon line, hoping – praying – for something.

And there was nothing.

 

###

           

But then, there was something.

A shadow, distant and far away, coming towards him at a terrifying speed. While a shiver of fear raced down his spine, he straightened up, ready to face whatever oncoming friend (or foe) was coming.

Instantly he knew that this person was not an enemy.

In fact, it was just a gentle looking man, kindness wreathed on his weathered face.

“You lost?” His voice was jovial, and not at all threatening.

“No,” Flint lied. He wasn’t about to show weakness in front of this stranger. Sure, he needed help… but did he need it that bad?

The man chuckled. “I can tell a liar when I see one. Let me guess, set off on a journey, ran out of food, looking for a town?”

Flint felt his jaw drop slightly without his consent.

How did he…

“I’ve seen enough,” the man waved his hand. “Fresno’s not too far up ahead. Just go,” he pointed behind him, “that way for a while. You should come upon it anytime in the next few hours.”

He flashed a bright smile, and Flint felt awkward and was unsure what he was supposed to say.

“Bah,” the man sighed. “I get the feeling you don’t really want to talk too much. No worries. I’ll leave you to yourself.”

With those parting words, he left, leaving a very confused and ultimately unsure boy.

Fresno, Flint mouthed the name thoughtfully. Maybe that’s the place.

 

###

 

The town was small, and not nearly as pleasing to see as his old one had been, but it worked. After two days of traveling without food or water, it felt like Heaven.

There were so many “Help Wanted” signs… but nowhere Flint was looking to work.

“Excuse me,” he asked a passing man. “Would you happen to know of any ranches in need of some hands? I’m looking for-”

“Oh, you’ll find those everywhere,” the man responded. “I’d suggest trying your chances with the Carter family. They have the largest spread around these parts. Just ask for Chad Carter.”

Chad Carter. I’ll have to keep that name in mind.

“Thank you,” he said, nodding, spirits lifted for what seemed like the first time in forever.

This was important. This meant he could possibly live out his dream of being a-

A horrible scream cut Flint’s thoughts off, and panic gripped his heart, wrapping its icy fingers in a death grip. He whirled around, trying to pinpoint the source.

It wasn’t a human scream.

All he could see was dust just a few yards away. It billowed, creating choking brown clouds, temporarily cutting off a life function if one was to step to close.

As he peered closer, he could make out two large shadows in the chaos.

Two forms.

Two horses.

An involuntary shudder ran through him. He didn’t like horses that much. He could tolerate them, but there were limits.

He was incredibly thankful he was here, two feet planted on the earth, and not in the midst of that brawl.

“What’s happening?” A hum stirred up as people started to wonder what was going on outside their shops and establishments. Many came out, and their eyes widened in shock at the sight. Who’d lost control of their mounts?

Flint’s eyes moved across the ground, trying to pinpoint which direction the two horses had come from.

A gasp caught in his throat when he noticed a small child running towards the two horses.

She didn’t see. She probably didn’t hear. It was impossible to make out words in the cacophony.

And no one else noticed her.

 

###

 

“She’s going to die,” Flint said, but no one seemed to hear, as they were all caught up with the spectacle of the stallions. The little girl was going closer and closer, unsuspecting, unknowing.

“Anne!” A woman’s voice screamed, but Flint was already moving at that point.

A gasp came from the crowd as he dove towards the child, grabbing her in a protective embrace right before she would’ve been killed.

I’m going to die.

There was no way out this time. As he held the girl, he had a dismal, but true thought. It was impossible. He’d be killed by a horse, one of the very things he feared. How ironic was that?

The two stallions reared again and again, slashing hooves and screaming challenges.

And Flint was right in the middle of them.

 

###

 

His heart pounded in his chest, fearing for his life. Every time they landed without crushing him was a miracle.

But he clutched the now wailing child to his chest, protecting her best he could.

I won’t let them hurt her. Even if I don’t have much of a say.

And suddenly it stopped.

Flint looked up, confused, as a crowd started to gather around him. One withdrew the child from his arms - the mother, perhaps? - while another crouched next to him, making sure he was fine.

“Are you alright?”

Random people he didn’t know interrogated him, pressing and asking questions he wasn’t sure how to answer. And he was still on the ground.

“Why’d you do that?”

“You could’ve been killed!”

“Who even are you?”

But there was one he took notice of. A black haired man with piercing blue eyes that looked as though he could read his every thought.

Flint met his stormy gaze, not exactly knowing why. He commanded an air of respect, like people knew and trusted him.

“You’re insane.” The statement was blunt, and straight to the point.

Flint sighed. “So I’ve been told.”

“But,” the man extended a hand, “you’ve got grit. I’ll give you that.” Flint took the offered assistance and was helped from the ground. He stood, brushing off the dust best he could.

The man turned and walked away, ending the conversation as quickly as it had started.

“Boy, if Chad Carter ever said that to me, I’d never stop talking about it,” Flint overheard a person whisper to another.

Chad Carter?

The rancher with the large spread, known and loved by many.

“Wait!” Flint hated the way his voice still had a slight tremble to it, but he rushed forward, trying to catch the man’s attention.

He stopped and turned, seeming confused. “What is it?”

This is it.

“I’m Flint Hadley, sir,” he continued. “And I had a question for you.”

The man paused, looking uncertain. “Well, get on with it, boy.”

Flint tilted his head, asking hopefully, “You wouldn’t happen to be looking for a new ranch hand… would you?”

 

###

 

A few months later…

 

It was a warm day when the letter arrived. The sun was smiling down brightly and all spirits seemed to be lifted in the nice weather.

Ernest accepted the letter handed to him from his father, almost instantly recognizing the scrawling and uneven handwriting he’d known for years.

He tore it open, the reckless abandon of a child showing through in his excitement. His fingers traced the beginning words thoughtfully, running down the page.

Ernest, the letter began, you’ll never believe what I did.