Original story by R.T. Fitch ~ author of “Straight from the Horses Heart”

The “Other Side” of the Story – An Excerpt

“Since the publication of “The Drive-By” last Sunday I have received multiple emails asking for the end of the story.  In reality, folks, there is no “end” to the story as we are continually in struggle against cruelty and abuse aimed at our American equines both domestic and wild.  BUT there is another perspective to the story which we submit to you, here.  Again, this is also an excerpt from our book and a story from the heart.  The battle rages on.” ~ R.T.

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She didn’t know why she had not seen them before.  She had driven by that little patch of pain for years and remembered seeing something up there, but she had never in her life seen what she saw on this day, never.

She was driving north, up that old country road that lead to her elderly aunt’s house.  This was a trip that she had many hundreds of times over the past several decades, straight up north on the old gravel road, kicking up enough dust to be seen by the space shuttle as it flew over Texas.  She used to think that thought and it would press her to move even faster as if to say hello to those up in space.  Maybe that is why she had never seen them; she did not know.

Today was different, though, for no reason as she raced up that empty country road, she paid attention to the often barren but always empty country land.  Her eyes drifted from left to right as she tapped her left foot to the rhythm of the Blood, Sweat and Tears song booming out her XM radio locked permanently on the 70’s station.  She swayed her head from side to side to match the flow of the music and allowed her mind to drift back to the “good old days” when her heart was pure, whole, intact and ready to take on the world.  She remembered the words he used to woo her as they sat looking out at the dark lake, at midnight, in his dad’s new Dodge Polaris…this song was playing.  She allowed herself to remember the kiss, the caress, the feeling of her heart leaping out of her chest and just as she was slipping down the tunnel of darkness towards remembering the betrayal, she saw them.

She jumped and clutched the steering wheel as if electrocuted and snapped her head around to the left as she gasped in horror at what she saw.  It took several seconds for her body to react to what her eyes had just seen so her truck continued to barrel up the road until her shaking foot finally found the strength to step on the brake pedal, stones scattered as she came to a half controlled skid in the middle of that desolate country road.  She sat there for a minute, softly panting and trying to put the image into perspective as she had traveled too far out of range and could no longer visualize the horror.  What were they?  How hideous?  What could they be?

Being alone, she thought that maybe it would be better to continue on and not go back, just head up to the road to her Aunt’s house where they would sip Diet Dr. Peppers and she would here the same old stories about her deceased mother, good stories, but old after you had heard them for at least a thousand times.  Maybe that should be what she should do, but…she would never be able to relax as the images would be haunting her during her visit and she knew that she would have to drive by them on the way home.  What to do?

While her mind debated over the best course of action, her heart put the truck in gear, backed it up, turned it around to where she had seen the abominations and headed back down the road to the location of the viewing.  Once there, the truck deftly performed a U-turn and parked on the other side of the road with the drivers side window in full view of the scene from hell.  She slipped the truck into park, pushed on the parking brake, let it idle to keep the AC running, took a deep breath and turned her head to the left to stare out over the shoulder and the barbed wire fence beyond.  A little gasp was heard as she quickly drew air into her lungs, her lower teeth slowly applied pressure to her upper lip, and the tears that began to form in her eyes made the vision of death begin to blur.

As she sat frozen, with her head twisted to the left, her right hand appeared to develop an intelligence of it’s own and without any visual direction from the head it began searching and groping on the front bench seat, looking for something.  It riffled through the newspaper, by-passed the purse and bingo, snatched a hold of the handle of the digital camera that was lying close to the passenger’s side.  The right hand and arm pulled it close to her chest as the left hand rolled down the window, little whimpers of despair filled the cab.  As the drivers window clunked itself down into the cradle inside the door, a blast of hot air roared into the cab bringing the stench of death, or rotting flesh and entrails, she almost vomited in the truck but pressed her left hand to her mouth as her right hand and camera shook against her chest.  She wept.

Through the tears she found the strength to put the camera to her face, to focus the telephoto lens and begin clicking off pictures.  She cried as the clarity of the horror came to her through the viewfinder, her heart was breaking and she felt so helpless.  As she sat and clicked the pictures, two of the horrible, emaciated skeletons turned to look at her, they had been standing over the body of one of the own, in a swarm of black flies…but they must have heard her.  Awkwardly they turned to face her, some several dozen yards away.  They turned and stared with sunken dull eyes, eyes that screamed with pain, fear, confusion, and abandonment…they stared and she took pictures.  The larger one tried to move towards her and almost fell as he stumbled on the rocks, the smaller one tried to follow but had to stop every other step to work up the strength to move forward.  For what seemed like hours, they stumbled their way towards the fence that ran along the road and closer to her, still taking pictures.  They made it to the fence, it appeared to be a serious test of their endurance, and they hung their heads over the barbed wire and panted while they watched her.  Off in the far corner she could see another one standing, rocking in pain, but he did not turn, he did not move, only these two and they looked right at her.

She felt the pull, she could almost touch the feelings that these two exuded, and she must at the very least, go to them.  She opened the door of the truck, stumbled across the ditch as she did not stop taking pictures, and walked up to within five feet of the emaciated, fly covered beings.  The stench was unbearable, she stopped pushing on the shutter, the camera lowered and she tried a weak attempt at a smile so as not to frighten them.  Instead of a sob, a frustrated squeak of a laugh came from her lips as the two looked so intently at her, as if she could save them from the fate that had befallen them and those behind in the mean paddock.  She felt weak, helpless and reached out to touch them.  Two sore covered noses stretched out to smell her hand in hopes that she had brought them nourishment; all she could do was stroke their patchy, scabbed foreheads and whisper; “Hold on babies, I will get help, don’t give in, fight, I will get help.”  And with that, she bolted across the ditch, up the shoulder and jumped into her truck.  She rolled down the window and hollered, “I’ll be back, hang in there, I’ll be back!” and before the words could fade, she pushed on the accelerator and the truck leaped forward in a flurry of flying gravel and dust.

Her pulse was pounding, her mind was racing, she had to help, she had to do something, they were about to die, and she must take action.  And as she drove to the sanctuary of her Aunt’s home where a phone and a computer waited, she began to form the plan, a direction of action that could be taken, the numbers that she needed to call, the website that she needed to go to, she would not wait, she would not stop, she needed to save those horses.

And as she drove off out of sight; another equine soul departed the world in the mean paddock behind her, she did not know this, she did not need to, for she had given a gift to the two who remained, the two that were still prisoners in their cell, she had left a bit of herself with them, she had given them hope.  And as the dust began to settle from her rapid exit, the two who remained looked in her direction with dulling eyes, yet uplifted hearts…they knew, their equine spirits knew.  They knew that they had a chance; there might be hope because they knew, in their heart of hearts, that a Horse Rescuer had been born that day…they knew; and so…they waited.