Richard Riley, a single parent, is trying to cope with his disabled son. His thinning gray-brown hair creeps upward trying to hide behind his crown. He clips it short hoping no one will notice. He has trouble keeping his belly below his belt line and his pants from wrinkling around his ankles. He drinks too much and watches sports on a big screen television in the den. Richard’s six-foot frame once supported a successful college athlete, now just a memory supported by photographs, and memorabilia. He owns and manages Riley’s Drywall and Supply Company.
Samuel Riley, at fifteen, sports gelled hair with red streaks. Rock music, school and skateboards, occupied most of his time until the accident. He wiped out while trying to ride the long stair railing of Sacramento City Hall. Now, he spends all of his time in a wheelchair, paralyzed from the waist down, his head still isn’t working properly after a severe concussion. He resents any offer of help, cries and throws temper tantrums that bewilder his father.
Mrs. Ashcroft is matronly; five foot nothing, with white hair and a generous attitude. She spends much of her time outside and seems like everyone’s grandmother. A therapist for 20 years, with degrees in physical therapy and horsemanship, she tries to convince reluctant patients to get well. She’s at home in any English Garden or parlor. This grandmother wrangles horses and people into being self-sufficient. She is compassionate but has a backbone of steel.
From Skateboards to Horseback
The Rileys live in a Sacramento suburb. The houses line up like soldiers presenting green lawns like rifles for inspection. Bored children congregate in the shadows of Capitol Park. Intimidating tourists on the walking path is considered fun. Older children ride between the trees on supercharged bikes and skateboards. Extreme tricks and stunts are considered a right of passage into adulthood.
The Riley’s home is a four bedroom box built sometime in the late fifties. It looks like all the other boxes on the street. It is paneled in white wood with blue trim surrounded by its green lawn and backyard fences. A patio, barbecue, and small pool illustrate the neighborhood’s charm. It is a good house but Sam’s youthful activities, once so noisy and boisterous, is now especially quiet after the accident.
Samuel had been messing around when a friend challenged him to ride the rails of the Capitol steps. Other teens had done it, and Sam saw no problem and showed no fear. He mounted the top of the great porch, getting up speed before making the leap upward onto the metal railing of the long sweeping steps. He crouched on his board soaring gracefully down the railing. Suddenly everything went bad, his board slipping from the rail, and he flying in a spectacular backflip onto the pavement.
Now there are hospital visits and bills to pay. His skateboard sits idle in his bedroom. “ Dad when are you going to help me out of bed” Samuel yells into the empty room “ I want to watch Larry play baseball, sometime this morning!”
“ I don’t know why you bother with Larry, he hasn’t said one word to you since the accident. He hasn’t even come over to see how you’re doing,” said Richard as he came to the bedroom door holding a coffee cup and eating a muffin. “ You’ve got to learn to do some things for yourself. I can’t always be there every time you want to get up or get in your wheelchair. The hospital therapist showed you how to get from your bed to your chair. Now do it, like they showed you, and I’ll stand here and watch but I won’t help you.”
“ I can’t.” screamed Sam to his father. I won’t. You stand there doing nothing and I need you to help me.”
Sam’s father took another sip from the coffee cup and replied. “ You do what you want, I am going back to the kitchen for the rest of my breakfast. There are more pancakes. You can join me there when you’re ready.” He disappeared from the doorway and pattered back down the hall toward the kitchen. Smell of pancakes and syrup penetrated the airway to Samuel’s bed and he sniffed eagerly. He began to move his arms and hoisted his dead legs to the side of the bed, reaching for the handle of his wheelchair, which was parked next to the nightstand.
Later that morning while Richard was mailing letters and bills in the post office, He casually mentioned his problems to his friend the clerk. “Sammy has quit the gym at the hospital because the insurance has stopped paying and they won’t see him anymore. The boy needs therapy if he is ever going to walk again.” He said with a sigh, “ You know, I am running out of ideas.”
The clerk, handing him some stamps, said, “ Have you tried the University at Davis. I hear they have a program for handicapped children, called hippotherapy. It is new and they have a financial help program for those that qualify. You might ask your doctor for a recommendation. I hear they have had very good results.” There was silence until all the envelopes were stamped. Then the clerk said with a smile, “ That’ll be Two dollars and fifty-seven cents Mr. Riley.”
In the pre dawn, Sam sulks in the car while Richard tosses the wheelchair into the trunk. All is ready for the trip to Davis. The university had a hippo therapy program for disabled adults and children. Samuel was excepted to the program on the recommendation of his doctor and his father’s persistence. “ All set son? He said, peering at the sullen face of his offspring. The boy was bleary-eyed and resentful at being awakened so early.
“No!” I don’t want to go! I won’t ride ponies! That’s for kids!” He continued to stare out the windshield with his arms folded across his chest and rebellion written across his face.
“ We are going and that’s the way it is!” Richard snapped heading for the driver’s side of the car. He almost bent the key in his frustration. Samuel continued to sulk.
“ How far is this place? I don’t want to spend all my time on the road. I want to go watch my friends play baseball. You never pay any attention to what I want.” Sam uttered after an interval of silence.
“ It isn’t really far, just a few more miles. This place we are going to go is in Davis. You know, you went to camp there one summer.” Richard said pleasantly, trying to appease the teenager. “ I think you will like going to Shady Acres. It sounds like a nice place.”
“Shady Acres! It sounds like something out of a TV show. It’s probably some dude country retreat full of hay bales and smiling idiots with guitars and cowboy boots.”
“ Maybe they will wear boots, but I bet they aren’t and playing guitars. They have a job to do and they come well recommended. They are not rednecks, just people trying to help. You will behave and be polite. These people want you to walk again. Why don’t you meet them and give them a chance.”
“They could care less if I walk again, they are being paid. So I don’t have to pretend to like them.” Said Sam with a sneer.
“ You could, but I bet given a chance, you may find that they are really nice. Why don’t you give them a try instead of setting your self up to hate them. You haven’t even seen them yet.” Richard sighed, somewhat exasperated.
The barn was a shack, the walls sunburned and peeling. The corral looked like it would fall down any minute. It was constructed of mismatched wood and nailed together with mismatched technique. Four horses were loosely tied to a hitching rail made from telephone poles. It was not the most prosperous place Richard and Samuel had ever seen. In fact, Richard thought he had the wrong address.
“ Hello, welcome to Shady Acres. I am Mrs. Ashcroft and I will be your teacher.” Said a white-haired old lady that came out to greet them “ You must be Samuel and Richard Riley. I have been expecting you.” She was energetic, and much younger than she first appeared. Her white hair made her look more than her 40 years. She was tan and healthy. She sparkled, and Samuel lost his anger and fell under her friendly spell. “Shall we get started Sam? Why don’t you go over to the tack trunk and find a helmet and wheel yourself over to the green ramp at the corral. A volunteer will meet you there with a little mare called Mrs. Brown.
“Who’s Mrs. Brown? “Samuel asked skeptically while his father helped him from the car to his wheelchair.
“You’ll see,” Said Mrs. Ashcroft with a secret smile.” I think you are really going to like her. If you treat her like a lady she will like you too.”
Mrs. Brown, a muddy bay quarter mare, had seen better days. She was a roping horse. Always a good header, she always placed her rider in the proper position to rope his steer. After a ten year career, she was no longer as quick. Her master donated her to the program several years ago and she was happy in her retirement.
After a stop at the tack trunk for a helmet, Samuel wheeled slowly toward the corral with Mrs. Ashcroft. “ If you think I am going to wear this dumb looking helmet you can think again” he said crossly, shoving the helmet into her hands.
“ Poor helmet, she said shaking her head and crooning, “ it would certainly like to get to know you better and so would Mrs. Brown. Won’t you try, since you came all this way? Just put the helmet on and soon you will forget it.” She gave it back to him, smiled and then walked ahead turning her back. He followed intrigued, not quite sure what to make of her.
Richard had dropped back to observe the interplay between them. He was impressed with Mrs. Ashcroft’s easy style and the way she handled his unwillingness. He inhaled the smell of the place, the hay, the leather and the animal smells. Yes, it was the smell of his childhood growing up on a farm. It reminded him of a time when the sun shone brighter and the trees were for climbing. It was a time when there were no wheelchairs or screaming teenagers. The past was a nice place to visit but he could no longer live there. He sighed and followed the pair to the corral.
Tim helped Sam slide from his wheelchair onto the special saddle. Mrs. Brown stood perfectly still. When he was astride and sitting comfortably, Susan strapped him into the high-backed saddle with a seat belt. Sam scowled feeling embarrassed.
“It is just to help secure your legs so they don’t slide forward. I am here to be sure you don’t slip sideways. I am what is called your leader and Tim is your spotter. We will accompany you throughout your riding lesson.” She said with a smile. Sam thought, “ she knows how I feel, like a absolute dork. I will just play her games to see what happens.”
“This saddle looks like a torture device from the Middle Ages.” Sam said trying to make time with Susan.
“Everyone thinks that, actually it is based on the saddles of the knights. It is no slip, and has a high back with a deep seat so people don’t go flying over backwards. Think of yourself as Sir Samuel and you are off on a quest to slay dragons.” She said with a silver laugh.
Mrs. Ashcroft took up her position in the middle of the ring. As they entered she confirmed that everything was ready for Sam’s riding lesson.
“Just relax, let you legs dangle where they want to go. Don’t brace your self like you are going to crash into a wall. That’s right, take a deep breath and let it out slowly. That’s it.” She crooned in rhythm with the walking Mrs. Brown.
As they made their way around the corral, Sam noticed his legs moved with the horse just as they moved when he walked to school. “ My legs, they move just like I am walking.” Sam exclaimed. Mrs. Ashcroft answered him with a terrific smile. At that moment, he realized the whole point of the riding lesson, which was to reprogram his legs and keep them supple. Sam smiled for the first time since his accident. He can get to like riding these “ponies.” He felt on top of the world. Catching Richard’s eye, he pumped his fist in the air in triumph. There were smiles all around the corral