Lopeck’s is a small farm that’s nestled right in the middle of about three hundred acres of cotton fields. It rises from the fields like a sultan’s oasis palace.

The small farmhouse could use a good coat of paint and the eaves are sagging, but the large, bright blue barn behind the house and surrounding corrals are in perfect repair. Two horses stand at a hitching post just outside the corral where a group of people surround a young, helmeted rider who’s astride a short, chubby bay pony. The kid is all smiles. The pony looks like it woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Sally squeals with delight and claps her hands as I park the truck between a dark green late model Subaru station wagon and a large, burgundy conversion van that has a handicap ramp built into the side.

A large black and tan spotted dog lopes up to the truck and starts sniffing the tires.

“We’re here,” Sally babbles as Cassie works to undo the seatbelt and I prepare the wheelchair. “We’re finally here.”

“Sally. Cassie.” A deeply tanned, slender, middle aged woman strides towards us. “I was hoping you’d make it out here soon.” She reaches over and flicks Sally’s ear. “We’ve missed you.”

Sally leans forward and wraps her arms around the woman’s narrow waist. “Me too.”

“Hey, Loretta.” Cassie runs her fingers through her hair, scraping it away from her face and bunching it up into a ponytail. She fastens it with the rubber band she’s been wearing around her wrist. “Sorry we were gone for so long. My work got crazy and lately Rhonda just hasn’t been able to make the trip out here.”

“Cassie, you have nothing to apologize for. I completely understand.” Loretta’s eyes move to me. Interest flairs in their dark blue depths. She extends a hand. “Hi, I’m Loretta Lopeck. This is my place.”

I shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Sally, tired of niceties, tugs at the bottom of Loretta’s untucked, racer back tank top. “Can I ride today?”

Loretta grins down at her. “It just so happens that you got here at the perfect time. There’s a nice gap in lessons right after Pete wraps up. How do you feel about riding Bullet?”

Based on Sally’s wordless shriek, she’s enthused.

Still grinning, Loretta grasps the handles of Sally’s wheelchair and pushes her toward the barn. Perfectly content to let someone else handle the driving, Sally sits back in her chair and keeps up a lively conversation with Loretta.

“Come on.” Cassie leads me down a narrow path that leads directly to the large corral. We sit at a covered picnic table near the corral and watch as the child on the pony heaves a tennis ball at one of those plastic basketball hoops that are designed for toddlers.

He keeps putting too much heft into his throw, causing it to go way past the hoop. Each time he misses, a heavy-set woman who appears to be in charge fishes another tennis ball out of a large plastic bucket and hands it to him while encouraging him to try again.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“The entire farm is devoted to using horses for therapeutic reasons,” Cassie says. “Sally has been coming here for years. They do a little bit of everything from using horses to help people problem solve, to therapeutic riding lessons, to hippotherapy. A few of the students even show in the local 4-H shows. Loretta is working with a young woman who rides dressage that’s hoping to qualify for the next Special Olympics.”

In the arena, everyone cheers as the child finally makes a basket. Caught up in their excitement, he gives a big belly laugh and throws both of his arms up in the air. As far as I can tell, the pony has fallen asleep.

I point to the arena. “So, what’s going on here?”

Cassie studies the activity in the corral. “A riding lesson. What usually happens is part of the class is used for teaching the child basic riding skills and teaching them how to control the horse. The rest of the class focuses on helping them hone other skills. Throwing a ball in a hoop is a fun way to work on hand-eye coordination, balance, and core strength. Most of the kids enjoy it a lot more than they do traditional forms of physical therapy.”

I spent a good part of my youth on the back of a horse and still ride whenever I get the chance. I don’t get the same thrill from riding as I do flying a plane, but there is something about being in the saddle that helps me feel more connected and grounded, so I can understand how it would benefit individuals with disabilities.

“Why so many people?” In addition to the boy, there’s the woman with the bucket of balls who looks like she’s teaching the class, a young man leading the pony, and two additional people walking on either side of the pony.

“They keep everybody safe. Most of the kids who ride here have some cognitive issues which makes it difficult for them to control themselves and a horse. If a person gets good enough, they start riding with fewer and fewer volunteers until eventually they’re independent.” Cassie smiles and a note of pride creeps into her voice. “Last summer, Sally finally reached the point where she’s riding independently.”

Feeling antsy, I stand. “Let’s check out the stables.”

I extend my hand. Cassie stares at it for a moment before surprising me by placing hers in it. Our fingers twine together as she gets to her own feet. Even more surprising is the warm satisfaction the simple touch sends curling through me. It’s even better than a hot cup of chocolate on a damp, windy day.

I let Cassie take the lead as we wander past the corral and toward the barn.

“How can Sally ride a horse? I’d think that since she’s in a wheelchair, it’d be impossible for her.”

“She got lucky. If the damage to her spine had been a half inch higher, she wouldn’t be able to ride,” Cassie says. “Her spinal injury is the reason we learned about this place. Her doctor suggested that she come here once her body was healed and start riding. The movement of the horse actually mirrors the way humans move when they walk, which helps keep paraplegics’ muscles fit, even though they can’t move them.”

We reach the large double doors of the barn, which are wide open, allowing sunlight and a little breeze to flow into the structure.

“Even though she’d never been on a horse before, Sally took to it right away. Loretta found her a nice, quiet mare and has a special saddle. Between the two, Sally was riding completely by herself. It was the coolest thing in the world.”

“Was?” I ask.

Cassie’s expression dims. “Sally had a stroke about thirteen months ago. Obviously, she lived, but it took a toll on her. She not only lost some of her fine motor skills, which are slowly returning, but we’ve also seen a decrease in her cognitive function as well.”

“I’m sorry.” I squeeze her hand. “I can’t even imagine how terrifying that must have been.”

Cassie takes a deep breath. Based on her expression, she’s pushing her emotions aside. I’m starting to understand that it’s something she does a lot. I can’t help wondering if her need to be in control all the time has to do with her sister’s condition. She can’t control Sally’s health, but she can control every other aspect of her life. I’m not any type of shrink, but the thought process makes sense to me.

“It’s harder on everyone who knows Sally than it is for her. I don’t think Sally even knew there was something wrong.” Cassie smiles, but it’s bittersweet. “That’s one of the great things about Sally. No matter how bad things are, she just rolls with it. Me, I’ve got to fight everything.”

Unable to resist, I stop and draw her toward me, engulfing her in a hug. She resists for about two seconds before melting into my body. It’s one of those moments where no words are required.

I bury my face in Cassie’s silky hair, inhaling the sweet, fruity scent of her shampoo and wish I could freeze the moment.