Alex, Bean, and the Boy

As we crossed the river, I felt a soft, cool breeze kiss my face. It had been well over, one hundred and ten degrees all summer, and today was no different. My horse, Alex was a registered Arabian gelding. His ancestors had run the Sahara for a millennia. His body was made for this. His large flared nostrils, for dissipating heat. His round and broad feet seemed to glide above the sand. His coat fine, and delicate. Yes, he was born for desert life. He too seemed to notice the breeze. He turned his face into the soft wind, and breathed deeply. 

My little dog was also my companion. Her name was Bean. She looked like she was half chihuahua and half coyote, for all I knew maybe she was. I had found her there, at the river. Someone had dumped puppies, sadly people often did. Riding back, holding six squirming puppies was not exactly fun. But I was allowed to keep one if I found good homes for the rest. So I did, and Bean was my keeper. A black and white dust devil. As intelligent as they come and just as mischievous.

We had been out all day. We were exhausted. I had thought about going home. But something told me to keep going. We were looking for a child. A tiny blonde boy, just four years of age. He was camping with his parents and disappeared sometime in the moonless night. 

Out there, away from town. The Arizona desert is dark. The only light comes from the celestial bodies. The stars and moon often seem just feet away, like you could reach out and touch them. No moon means your only natural light source is, starlight.

Authorities believed the boy had simply wandered off. His lone tracks had been found leaving the campsite. The tracks led to the river. Everyone suspected we were looking for remains. But no one said the words out loud. It had not yet been twenty-four hours. There was still hope, even if it was scant.

Our ranch was south of the area the boy disappeared in. It was ten miles or so from the confluence of the Gila and Colorado Rivers. Search and rescue were on it. However, our local 4H leader had sent out an email requesting those of us with horses go out and look on our own. We could reach places vehicles could not, and we could see things, someone with an aerial view, could not.

I was a teenager, and I was heavily involved with the 4H horse club. I also lived on the river, and I knew it like the back of my hand. It was a Sunday, and I had nothing going on, I was planning to ride anyway, so I might as well look for the boy. 

I had been out since about 10 a.m. all I had found was a dead cow. Likely the one our neighbor was missing. I made a mental note to tell them the next time I saw them. It was now late afternoon. We had hours of daylight ahead of us. The sun doesn’t set until 9 P.M. here, during summer. It also stays hot, even after the sun sets. So we knew if he was alive, he wouldn’t be hypothermic, and he has access to water. I didn’t know what I would do if I found the boy. I didn’t have a cell phone. It was very uncommon for teenagers to have a cell phone in the early nineties.

I had chosen this spot to cross because I knew it was shallow and my dog was short. She only had to swim a few feet before she was touching earth again. She made it across as always, unscathed and happy to be out of the heat for a moment. When we reached the other side, she shook the water off and happily bounded for the dry sand to roll in. She was so comical in her antics that I nearly forgot why I was there. 

I watched her roll and then I said, “C’mon Beanie Weanie, we have work to do, let’s go” she jumped up in her over the top, cartoon way. And we headed toward where the rivers meet. There was a patch of mesquite trees in that spot. I thought, I’ll turn back there. I haven’t seen anything but that old cow. They probably found him by now anyway.

As we approached the mesquite patch, Alex perked up. His ears pointed directly at the trees. Mesquite trees are interesting to look at, and I could understand, how a horse who had never seen one, could spook at them. Alex, however, had a Mesquite Tree in his pasture. So I called him an idiot and urged him forward. I planned to step off and relieve myself under the cover of those trees. He snorted about it the entire way. 

When we reached the trees, I dismounted. I pulled my halter and lead rope out of my saddle bag. I took my horses bridle off and put the halter on. My intention, to tie him to a tree, while I found a spot to answer the call of nature. I tried to lead him forward to the trees and he would not move. Choosing to balk backwards instead. In the desert finding somewhere to tie your horse up, is harder than you’d think.

Irritated at my horse, I decided if he was going to act like a fool, I was going to hobble him. Natures call was becoming urgent and I couldn’t mess around any longer. So I pulled my hobbles out of my saddle bag and buckled them around his front legs. Hobbles don’t hurt the horse. They just keep him from running off. Horses are flight animals, and will bolt if something scares them enough. I didn’t want to lose my horse, or walk back home.

So Alex, now hobbled, stood where I left him. He was trained about hobbles and knew he was to stand still and wait. I headed for the trees, and my little dog following behind. The breeze picked up again. It was so soothing on such a hot day. The breeze brought with it a scent. I couldn’t smell it. But my little dog could. She stopped in her tracks. Her hackles up higher than I had ever seen them. Something dangerous was among these trees, and my animals knew it.

The list of dangerous animals played in my head, a rattlesnake was my best guess. Both animals were familiar with the scent. We commonly saw them. I knew snakes don’t chase you. They won’t seek to strike humans, we are too large to be seen as prey. So I continued toward the trees, watching very carefully where I put my feet.

As I approached the trees, my dog began to bark. Surprisingly for such a little dog, she wasn’t a yapper. She was sneaky, and sneaky dogs are quiet dogs. 

“Shut up” I said. “I don’t see anything.” 

This was a tremendous insult to her. She slinked back to Alex, tail between her legs, like I had just, utterly broken her heart. 

I walked into the shade of the old mesquite patch, grateful I would finally be relieved of my water. Still looking down at my feet every step, expecting to see a rattler at any moment. I walked behind the largest tree. It wasn’t the tallest but it was probably the oldest. The tree was gnarly and dark green. It seemed to be tilted on its side, but it had grown that way. I had to be careful, mesquite thorns can be several inches in length, and a puncture from one often led to an infection. 

I found a spot I was sure no one passing by would ever see. I have no idea why I was so worried about it. I was miles from civilization, but coyotes were often found out that way bringing people across the border. I had seen them from a distance before, but I didn’t bother them and they didn’t bother me. I still did not want to surprise one, or have them surprise me in a compromising position.

I was reaching for my belt buckle when I saw it. A shoe, a toddlers shoe. It did not look like it had been here long. I walked over to it, and reached down to pick it up. That was when I heard it. So soft I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. Then I heard it again, a little stronger this time, “Mama.” 

I looked around frantically. Then I spotted him. Just as he had been described in the email. Only he was missing both his shoes and his pajama top. He had climbed up into one of the smaller trees. He had scratches and bruises all over. I walked over to the tree, and I said, “I have been looking for you, I’m going to take you to your Mommy, okay?” He just looked at me, and gently whispered again “Mama.” 

I was wrong, it wasn’t a rattlesnake. It was the missing boy.

I couldn’t believe I had actually found him. I tried to coax him to me. But he just blankly stared at me. I was afraid to just grab him, for fear he would panic. I didn’t want to traumatize him more than he already was. But I had no other choice. If he wouldn’t come to me, I was going to have to grab him and go. I said to him “I’m going to pick you up and take you to your Mommy now, please don’t freak out.” I climbed onto the branch he was on, I reached for him, and he just continued to blankly stare. I knew he was in shock. Which made it all the more imperative that I get this child to safety.

I then grabbed him and jumped off the tree. The landing hurt my feet, but we were both safely back on the ground. I carried him toward my animals. Alex was sniffing the sparse vegetation around him for something edible, and Bean still had her hackles up. The boy hadn’t said a word, and did not seem to be panicked. 

When I reached Alex, he stopped his business of looking for a bite, and began his business of sniffing the boy. He quickly decided it was no big deal and returned to his searching. Bean was a little more difficult to win over. She had begun barking again, and it was incredibly annoying. “Shut up” I hissed. I didn’t want her to frighten the boy.

I knew Alex would let me ride him double, he had many times in the past. I had to put his bridle back on and take his hobbles off, which meant putting down the boy for a moment. The instant I began to set the child down, he started to scream. I told him it was just for a minute, I had to get my horse ready. This was no good. I didn’t know what else to do, so I just let him scream while I prepared my horse. 

Bean now finished with her yapping marathon, came closer to the boy. She sniffed the air. She low crawled closer and closer to the crying child. The closer she got, the quieter the child got, his focus now on her. When she got close enough to lick his face, he stopped crying all together, opened his arms and hugged her. She sat there for it. She sat there with that child hugging her for the remainder of the time it took to get Alex ready. She knew he needed comfort.

When I had finished, I scooped up the boy and set him in the front of the saddle, just behind the saddle horn. 

He said, “Horsey.” 

I said, “Yes! Horsey, he’s a good horsey, he’s going to take us home,” as the words left my lips, Alex softly nickered.

With that, I mounted Alex behind the boy and we headed back. It was a long ride back. I tried to talk to him about what happened to him. But I didn’t get a word besides “horsey” which he repeated the entire way. I gave him water, and some fruit snacks I had in my saddle bags. He ate them and drank a little water. He seemed okay, except for the bruises and scratches. How he managed to get up in that tree and not get impaled by a Mesquite thorn, I do not know. 

When we crossed back over the river, he tensed up. He stared down at the water in horror. The same cool breeze blew across us as we crossed, I noticed it came from the direction of the mesquite patch. The boy felt it too, and relaxed slightly. I wondered if that had been God telling me, look this way.

I decided that I wouldn’t take him all the way back to our ranch. We had neighbors that were closer and I knew they had a phone. I would call for help and call my family to let them know what had happened. It was starting to get dark when we reached their house. Their dogs barked at us, and alerted them to our presence. The wife came outside to greet me, before she could say a word, “I shouted, I found the missing child, please call 911.” She looked at us for a split second then ran inside. Her husband emerged a moment later.

He spoke to me for a few moments. Getting a few details, then went back inside. When he returned, he said an ambulance was on its way. He offered me a stall to put Alex in, while we waited for the ambulance. I dismounted, and then reached for the boy. He said, “Horsey” one more time as I gently pulled him out of the saddle. I tried to put him down, but the screaming would commence. So the kindly neighbor offered to untack Alex and put him in the stall for me. I also remembered to tell him I found his missing cow. I went inside and called my family, still holding the boy. Bean outside, cheerfully playing with the neighbor dogs.

When the ambulance arrived, it came with not only police who had a million questions for me. But with the child’s parents, who were hysterically weeping. The mother fell to her knees when she finally had her baby again. I know they feared the worst. We all did. I was terrified all day, I would find his remains. 

They thanked me profusely. I told them there was no need. But as a parent myself now, I understand how truly grateful they were. But at the time, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. To teenaged me, it was just another adventure with my best friends. 

Police surmised that the boy had somehow gotten into the water, he either fell or tried to play in it and was swept away. The spot with the mesquite trees was a good twenty miles from the campsite. No one thought he could have been swept that far and been found alive. 

My family came to take us home. They brought the horse trailer, so “The Three Musketeers,” as they so loving called us for a very long time, didn’t have to hoof it back, and I was finally able to answer natures call.

I never saw the boy again after the ambulance took them away. I found out later, that he was fine. He recovered perfectly. I think about him from time to time and wonder how he’s doing. I wonder if he remembers that day. Does he have children of his own? I hope he does.

I also hope, when a cool breeze kisses his face, he remembers Alex and Bean, long since passed. My closest friends, and the greatest heroes I have ever known. I don’t mind if he doesn’t remember me. But Alex and Bean deserve to be remembered.