The Charity by Connie Johnson Hambley Page B

guilt of her inability to act grew. She killed her family. She could have helped them if she had just had the strength to be heard. But she did not get anyone to listen to her. She did not scream or run or take the knife out of anyone’s hands. She did not try hard enough and they were all dead.
    She killed Gus Adams and now everyone knew it. The verdict was in and it was undeniable. She was a murderer. And, according to what she heard in the barn, a dead one at that. She was alone. Totally alone. She could not and would not seek help from anyone, especially the police.
    Jessica climbed down out of the loft and landed with a thud at the base of the ladder. Her joints ached and her limbs did not respond easily to her commands for movement. She listened again to the sounds of the barn and began to walk around.
    The barn, once familiar, was now so strange. She walked up and down the aisles, smelling the sweet musky odor of the horses and listening to their contented sounds. Memories of a little girl popping in and out of stalls as she helped Gus care for a sore tendon or hot foreleg came upon her and then faded. Peals of laughter from her mother and father echoed back into the soft nickerings of the barn’s inhabitants.
    After a long while of drifting, she found herself standing in front of Blue Jeep’s stall. She looked at the big gray gelding as he munched away at a mouthful of hay. The brass plate with his name shone in the muted light of the night. Running her finger over the etched letters of his name, Jessica slowly curled up into a ball at the base of the stall door. Knees hugged tightly to her chest, she began to sob.
    She tried to curl herself up so tightly that she hoped she would truly disappear. Images of her family sharpened and faded. She begged her mother and father to come back, to help her. Feeling small and helpless, huge wails escaped from her as she pleaded with them for forgiveness and to protect her from the bad people. She waited a long time for them to reach down and touch her, but the touch never came. It never did when she had cried for them so many times over the years. Now, she added a name to her lament. She wanted so desperately for Gus to come back and to tell her that this was all a joke.
    Eventually, the raw wound of emotions hardened over. Tears stopped streaming down her face. She stayed curled into a ball with her head down on her knees. Something touched her, and for a moment her heart pounded with the thought that her prayers were answered. Then she became more fully aware of a warm breath on the back of her neck. She looked up into the face of Blue Jeep.
    He draped his neck over the side of the door to get a closer look. He nuzzled her softly and butted her gently with his giant head urging her to stand up. Jessica let herself into his stall and threw her arms around the horse’s muscular neck. He seemed to sense her need for comfort, letting his head droop over her shoulder. Soon, though, he became alert to the prospect that she might take him on a hard ride and began pacing excitedly around his stall.
    “You’ll miss me, won’t you Jeeps?” The horse cocked an ear toward his companion and looked toward the door.
    “No. Sorry buddy. No rides tonight.” Jessica let herself out of the stall taking care not to let the big animal follow her through. “I’m sorry, Jeeps. I have to go. I know you’ll get a real good home somewhere.” She gave him another brisk rub on his forehead and kissed his nose. “G’Bye, fella.” Choking back fresh tears, she turned and walked back up the corridor.
    She wasn’t sure what her plans were and found herself back in her house and in the office. The office was hardly more than a cramped little room with a desk, chair, some filing cabinets and a phone. Through the years the office had acquired an assortment of horse paraphernalia in varying degrees of disrepair, and papers, lots of papers. The desk was littered with race periodicals and old tout