Theyâd done a few tricks, talked to the children. Now they were socializing. He guessed that was always his favorite part of an event. He loved watching expressions on the childrenâs faces when John did various tricks. They were always in awe of his four-legged partner.
But getting to know the kids, hearing their storiesâthat was the part he most enjoyed. Sometimes his heart got a little banged up in the process. In the hospitals there were stories of disease, lifelong struggles, hope and fear. In homes such as this one he heard about the worst of humanity. Children who were left to go hungry, were beaten or abandoned.
But now they were safe. They were fed. They were happy. They told stories the way veterans recounted war.
In a quiet moment he looked around, searching for Samantha. He spotted her on a swing, a little girl sitting on her lap. Sam pushed with her feet and the swing moved just the slightest bit, back and forth. The little girl, maybe four years old, looked up at Sam as if she was the best thing ever. He agreed with her.
He headed in their direction, John Wayne trotting obediently at his side. Then suddenly they were stopped. John froze. Remington looked down at the boy who had hurried to catch up with them. He wrapped his arms around Johnâs neck and the horse stood without moving, the boyâs thin arms hugging him tight.
âI want a horse like this one,â the boy said. âIâd change his name, though.â
âChange his name! What else would you call him?â
âI donât know, but Iâve never heard the name John Wayne and I think he should be called Midnight. Or King.â
Remington bit back a grin and tried hard to keep a serious expression on his face.
âWell, John Wayne just happened to be one of the best cowboys ever,â he explained. âHe was an actor in movies about the Old West.â
âOld West?â A girl had walked over to them.
âYes, maâam. He played Rooster Cogburn.â
They looked at him as if he came from Mars. âBut you said he was a cowboy. Howâd he play a rooster?â the little boy asked.
Finally Remington laughed. âHe didnât play a rooster. That was his name.â
âYou could have named John Wayne, Rooster,â the girl offered.
âYeah, I guess I could have.â He scratched his jaw and kept a serious face. âBut then he wouldnât be John Wayne.â
âI still like Midnight,â the boy said with conviction.
âMidnight is a real good name. I think if I get another horse, thatâs what Iâll name him.â
The boy grinned big. âAnd youâd bring him here so I could see him.â
âIâd definitely bring him here to visit.â
The girl patted Johnâs neck. âI think John Wayne would like a friend.â
âHeâs got me,â Remington offered.
The girl rolled her eyes. âYouâre a person. He needs horse friends.â
Samantha appeared at his side, her new friend still holding tight to her neck. âI agree. John needs horse friends.â
âYouâre not helping,â he whispered.
She laughed, and her blue eyes sparkled, but he saw remnants of unshed tears, as if the heartache of the little girl had become her own.
âIâm trying,â she said. âHere comes Mrs. Baker.â
Mrs. Baker was a widow with a heart for kids. She said this house full of little ones kept her young, kept her heart in the right place. They anchored her.
âChildren, itâs time to say goodbye to Remington and John Wayne. We have to clean our rooms before dinner,â Mrs. Baker announced.
The children groaned and Remington noticed little arms tightening around Samâs neck, holding on for dear life. Mrs. Baker noticed, too, and headed their way.
âIâll take Jalee.â Mrs. Baker reached for the little girl who clutched Sam.
âI want to go,â Jalee cried.