“Yes sir,” she smiled back.

Henry stayed with the little girl until the horses started moving down the trail. He walked a short distance by her side then patted her on the leg. “There you go,” he said reassuringly. After traveling a few more yards on her own, Lindsey turned back, caught Henry’s eye, smiled and waved at him. Henry smiled and waved back. Jessie, who was still standing behind Henry, silently nodded her approval, and then turned and walked back to the porch.

At first, Henry felt good about helping the little girl overcome her fear of horses. But as the day wore on, a profound sadness began to overtake him until by the end of the day he was struggling to hold himself together. As soon as his work was finished, he went to the bunkhouse and dug through the satchel in his footlocker until he found a small, slightly yellowed envelope. He carefully put the envelope in his shirt pocket, and drove to town, stopping first at the liquor store, and then driving on to a secluded spot in the desert. Henry spent the next two-and-a-half hours sitting on the tailgate of his pickup and drinking until he felt he was sufficiently numb. He then reached in his pocket and drew from it the yellowed envelope. He took a labored breath, then peeled the flap back and gently took from it a weathered black-and-white photograph of Annie and four-year-old Josh, who was sitting on a pony. Both were smiling into the camera. Seeing the photo in the fading light of day filled Henry with emotion, and as he tried to force a smile, his eyes filled with tears.

The next morning, a hungover and slightly bedraggled Henry stood next to a big red horse named Champ in the mounting area, waiting for the person who would be riding him. He stood for what seemed like a very long time, the early morning sun beating down on him, his mouth dry and a dull ache behind his eyes, before an obviously wealthy woman in fancy western attire approached and placed her foot in the stirrup. Suddenly, the woman stopped and turned toward Henry with a sour look on her face.

“What is that smell?” she questioned. Henry didn’t answer. “That smells like liquor! Have you been drinking?”

“No ma’am,” Henry said flatly. “It’s my hair cream. I believe it went bad.” A confused look crossed the woman’s face. “It happens all the time. I really should switch.” Then as if that was simply the end of the conversation, he helped her on her horse and went to get his own mount.

It was the first time in the month-and-a-half since Henry had first arrived that he’d actually gotten a chance to ride. It was “breakfast ride morning” and all the guests on the ranch were going. Normally, Henry wouldn’t be riding, as Chad always made sure all the wranglers but him did, but on this morning, Big Steve had come down with a nasty case of the hives and was still in the bunkhouse scratching himself silly. As a result, and with no other alternative, Henry ended up going in his place. The ride had actually been pleasant enough by going down into the sand wash, along a dry creek bank, through a spotty grove of Joshua Trees, then back down into another wash, and finally ending up in a grove of cottonwoods near a creek where a chuckwagon breakfast was already set up and waiting. All the wranglers, including Henry, took care to tie the horses to a long wooden hitch rail built some distance from where the guests would be eating, loosen the cinches and then go to the back of the line, where they would wait until all the guests had gotten their food before they got theirs.