Healing Hearts

        The accident happened 11 years ago. My dad fell off his horse in a race. I'll never forget the sight of those powerful horses galloping over my dad, as if he were a ragdoll. Dyas later he ran away. Leaving only me and my mom. I remember my mom holding little 3 year old me being held in her arms. Her love and warmth dried my tears.

        But that was long ago. Only a week ago my mom was in a plane crash. My 24 year old sister, May, came home from France as soon as she heard what happened. She went to school and college in France for 12 years. She's all I have left. I mean, yes, there's Jake and Clover, our stable hands, but I'm talking about family. This is a tough time for me. This time, I didn't have my mom to dry my tears,  but a stranger who I haven't seen for 12 years.

        My mom was owner of Oakwood Stables. Oakwood isn't beautiful, but it is my home. At Oakwood, we heal horses. I don't mean wounds, or bones. I mean hearts. Everyone says iI have the same gift with horses as my mom. A gift like that takes responsibility..

        It was 5:00 AM. We're in mid-spring, so it's warm, but still windy. I grab my dark blue North Face jacket, and run out the door. I tied my hair up in a high ponytail while running inside the barn. I start to muck out the stalls when I say May walking outside with the phone in her hand.

        "Primrose!" She shouts. I find it extremely annoying when people call me by my full name. I prefer Prim. Although, I can't blame my sister. She hasn't seen me in a while. May isn't a farm type of girl. she likes getting her nails done, and shopping, but she keeps Oakwood in one piece. "What?" I mutter. "Arizona's on her way. Prepare her stall," she says sternly. Thank god. We haven't gotten many clients since mom died. No one takes a 14 year old seriously. We need this money bad..