Hope's Ranch

Early May: End of year one

They had pulled off at a truck-stop in central California. Larry had taken care of fueling up, while his passenger worked on the windshields. The person who was following him was one pump away. A year earlier he would have had to do the whole job himself, but that was almost like a different life now. He leaned against his driver side door, a sign by his shoulders. In large black letters were the words. “Hope's Ranch.” It wasn't painted on, but a sticker, put on by the ranch to help him out with bills on his rig; this way someone helped out with the high insurance he had to pay every three months. Just under the window were the words “High Plains Cowboy” done in a flowing script. His truck was in need of a new paint job, and a good washing. He leaned against his truck and his mind went back to a woman he had known for several years. She had become his favorite dream and once had been his biggest regret. But lately, they had been getting closer and she was getting ready to leave her life in Truckee.

“Hope's Ranch?” A female voice cut through Larry's day dreaming. “Isn't that the place for the runaways? The private school in the Sierra Nevada’s?”
He nodded as he gathered his thoughts. There was a female trucker, on the pump next to him. She had that tired look that most drivers who have seen too many hours on the road seemed to wear. He didn’t lean forward as he spoke, but he smiled. “Yeah, but it's more than that. Its more of a place that will take in the kids that the world shuns and it helps them better themselves.”

“It's where those kids...those Transsexuals go, right?” The lady asked. Larry looked at her and realized that she didn't look angry, just curious.

“It is. But it isn’t just Transsexual kids there. There are all sorts. Gay, lesbian, bi kids, pregnant girls, girls who were raped...all sorts call the ranch a home.” He said with a nod. “We try not to exclude too much.”

"Its more than a school, right?"

"The ranch has several sides, including the school, the ranch and more. Each part is separate from the others, but it’s also together.....well, that’s not a good way of putting it. The best way to look at it is this. We offer kids and families a safe haven. We’re state supported, but we also have a commune of sorts with families who have gone there for safety.”

“I heard about you guys on the radio a week or so ago. It was on a news show one night. Something about a whole new campus and a rebuild due to damage.” She said. Her head cocked to the side slightly, as though she was getting a better look at him. He had seen several female truckers over the years. A lot of men felt intimidated by them, like they were stealing the jobs for the men, but Larry never had an issue with women drivers. He only had problems with people who gave truckers a bad name. “You look familiar. Didn't you used to do over the road trucking into the Midwest? I swear I seen you somewhere in Nebraska, could have been Wyoming? I think it was about five years ago? A fist fight at a Mrs. B's? I swear they said it was the High Plains Cowboy.”

“I used to stay in the Midwest, Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah. A lot of the Interstate eighty corridor. And yeah, that could have been me. I was pretty stupid back then. Fought at the drop of a hat and it didn't matter whose hat it was.” He said with a nod. “But I'm helping at the ranch now.”
“Not to sound rude, but you don't look like the kind of guy who'd be helping transgendered kids. I recall you were a bit of an ass to those kinds of people several years back. I remember hearing stories about you at a couple different truck stops about you being homophobic.” He didn't get mad. He knew in all his travels, he'd meet someone that had heard about who he was before he began working for Hope's Ranch. Before his life was changed over the years.

“A few years ago, I would have agreed with you. And I was always a jerk to gays and transgendered people.” He shrugged. “Actually, I was a jerk to everyone.”

“Why?” She asked.

“I had a brother that decided he was born a girl and my first reaction was to hate him. When he gained the support of my parents, I hated them. I finally left over ten years ago, when I got mad at all of them. I left that day, after slugging my brother and telling off my parents. I figured that was the last time I'd ever deal with a Transsexual again. My hatred boiled for years and I just became a bitter man.”

“But you work for a ranch that deals with them?”

“I was lucky enough to have my eyes opened for me.” He stated. “It had started a couple years ago, actually, but last year it was all pulled into focus for me.”

“What was that?”

“Well, it's kind of a long story....” He looked at the fuel pump and realized he had time. “But for me, it started a long time ago...”

And here it is again. Hope's Ranch has returned. It will take a little bit to get into year one, but I feel its needed to see the main cast and how they get to the ranch.

The beginning to Hope's Ranch. A look back, though the years before year one

Thirty years, or so, before Year one

As ranch's go, this one was like any other. A humble two story, four bedroom home, with a kitchen, den, living room and one and a half bathrooms. The faded paint job was peeling from the old wood walls on the outside of the home. The paint job on the inside was just slightly better. The roof had recently been patched, and the windows were new as well. It was good enough to be a home. In fact, a family lived in it. Like many other families in the country. A father, mother and two children, both boys.

While none of the family really stuck out. In time, one of them would feel out of place. Like he was born in the wrong body. And as he would grow, many people would ignore his complaints that he wasn't a boy, but a girl. No one heard, no one but his brother, who was six years older. And his brother picked on any weakness he could find, like brothers tend to do. It was unseen by the parents. Not because they were bad parents, but that they were both busy people. Both parents held many jobs. They were ranchers, parents, pillars of the community. She was a school nurse, he was a farmer. Both had their hands full and were doing the best they could to give their kids a good life.

The ranch wasn’t special. Not yet at least. In fact it would be nearly two decades before the ranch began to be something special. Three decades until the full potential of the ranch would begin to show. Currently it was like many of the other ranches in the area and across the country. A lot of land, owned by one family. Many crops across the several hundred acres they owned. All land that had been handed down through the family. Many parcels of land were purchased when times were tough and the little family who owned the ranch had the money to expand. Not all of the land was crop worthy. Some was good for animals and some for hunting. Others to just have buildings on. Which was good.

Of course being so busy and having two young kids, the father had to hire help to tend to his fields. So he usually called on migrant workers. But the ranch kept thriving. Not turning a huge profit, but not slipping into a pit of debt and bankruptcy, like many other farmers.

Currently the ranch was just that. A ranch. A place to produce food, to raise children in a simpler way, as opposed to how kids in Reno, just half an hour away, were being raised. Or even kids in San Francisco. Yet, unknown to the man and woman in the house, their children, their ranch, even they themselves, would be instrumental in changing the ranch into something of a symbol. A beacon of hope for lost, hurt souls. A place of healing and love. A place the world would need.

None of them could see the future. Not one. If they could, they may had turned from the path, or took a different approach. But as life has a way of happening, they lived life, one day at a time. Their lives were shaped by the things that happened around them. Watergate. The Vietnam war. In time they would see Presidential assassination attempts and Shuttle explosions would become the big news. But for now, it was a country trying to get back on track.

There would be trials. Many of them, and for all who would be involved. Trials not only legal, but physical and mental. Tears and pain were destined for the future of all four people in the family, but none of them could be aware of it. Not that it mattered. The wheels of fate were already moving. Moving towards a destiny that no one could foresee. Time would march on and each would have a role to fill. One they could easily walk away from. Others would follow the ideal, like many people did. Each of them would fill a role. Protector, healer, explorer, friend, confidant. There of course would be their opponents. Detractors. Haters. As the father's Dad used to say, “Life with no bad wasn’t a life worth living. For one needed the lows to counter the highs. Evil to counter the good. Life was always a struggle. Not just between others, but within one’s own mind and soul. Sometimes, even the noblest of intentions could harm another.” And that speech always stayed with the man, even from his time in the war.

The kid's father often recalled the lessons his father taught him, while tending to the farm when he was a boy. “It is with love and hope that we are nurtured, and grow. We can grow as strong as these crops and help others grow.” And that was the lessons they planted in his children. Of course, Henry, the father, was his father's eldest. His younger siblings were a sister, who now lived in San Francisco, and was part of the dwindling hippy movement, also a lesbian. His brother had died in the war.

The mother also tired to give these lessons to the boys, Larry and Earl. She told her what her mother had always said to her. “Live life to the fullest. Love everyone like you want to be loved. Be there when you are needed. Stand by your word and defend those in need.”

Little did they know that their words would inspire so many, mostly the youngest child. And no one knew of the changes that were in store for their little family, or for other families that would join theirs. For their story was only beginning.

~o~O~o~

And once again, I am breathing life into this story.

Fifteen years before year one

He had seen it coming. His brother was slowing becoming the sissy Larry always knew he was. Larry had beat Earl up many times over the years and as they got older, the beatings seemed to get worse. As kids it would end up with Earl having a bloody nose, or a fat lip. As they got older, black eyes became a normal thing. No matter how much he beat on his brother, the younger boy always seemed to remain a quiet and kind person, which just made him hate his brother even more. He could never understand why his brother was the way he was. There were no girlfriends, but then he had very few male friends either. He often remained by himself, or he stayed near their mother. Larry just figured that was to keep from being beaten

Larry knew he should have seen the writing on the wall when his brother first came out to his parents. Larry didn't know what was going on at first, only that his father got distant to both of them, which made Larry hate Earl even more. Then their mother began doting on his brother, which annoyed him. Larry seemed to get more chores around the house, at least he thought he had.

Larry could still remember the fishing show he was watching the summer that he was Seventeen and his brother was eleven.Earl had told his parents his big secret. Larry figured his parent would want him to stop it from happening, so he tried his hardest. He told all his friends, which wasn't many people, due to their remote location, he increased the beatings, but was stopped more by both his parents.

Finally one day it all came to a head. He could remember the argument like it happened five minutes earlier. He was twenty five, and working as an over the road trucker. His younger sibling had just turned nineteen. So far Earl hadn't done much living as a woman, even though he kept seeing the shrinks. Larry figured it was all a waste of money.

“Son, we're going to help Hope out.” His father said. “We know you have problems with it, but Hope is our child and we've always said we'd help either of you if you were in need.”

“We don't want to do this, but you can't keep attacking your sister.” His mother said.

“That's my brother!” He yelled back. “He's got a dick, that makes him a man! You're just helping with the problem!”

“Son, if you can't accept Hope for who she is, then you can't stay here anymore.” His father said.

“But Dad, you need help here. I can help you!”

The old man shook his head. “Son, I need help and you've been working. Hope is getting very good in the fields. We don't need a violent thug with no love in his life.”

The arguments went back and forth, but one thing remained, they were supporting his sibling, no matter what. Finally his temper snapped. He faced his sibling and glared at her. “You ruined this family!” Larry struck out, his fist catching Hope's chin. She staggered back and hit the ground on her ass. Their father moved to get in between his children. Larry just glared at all of them. “This is all your fault! I hope you all rot!” He turned and stormed off for the trailer where he kept his stuff. Ten minutes later, from the safety of the house, they watched their son take a bag of clothes and throw it into the sleeper of his big-rig tractor. Their father watched, feeling nothing but sadness as his son pulled out of the driveway, for what he thought was the last time.

Twelve years before Year one

Hope sat in the kitchen. She had been spending the night, crying. The kid she had seen in Reno a week earlier still bugged her. Alone, on the street, battered to death. No one had cared. Some people had even laughed about it. She only got there to find the aftermath. A poor child, draped in a dress, raped, beaten and killed.

A sweet looking child, no more than seven or eight. Beaten because he liked to dress like a girl. Because he was a girl inside. Emotions roared through her veins. A mix of sadness and rage. She wanted justice for the child, but the killer was already caught and using religion as an excuse.

She had just finished college and was getting ready to go out into Plumas county to start her teaching career. She planned to stay where she was, when she finished school. She knew the big cities had more options for work. She loved the mountains though. And even though people there hated her for what she was, she could not stand to leave the place she had called home for over twenty years. She loved them very much.

Once again Fate played it's hand. Unseen to the family.

On the counter, a small TV was playing the number pull from the State’s lottery. Normally Hope wouldn’t have cared. But this time it was over three hundred million dollars. She could afford to give up one dollar for a chance at that.

“And Seven.”

Hope gasped, then she looked down at her hand. The ticket she held couldn’t be read, due to the shaking of her hands.

She wanted to scream out in joy. In the joy that her life could get a lot better, but emotion caught the sound and held it in her throat.

Six months had passed since she had her windfall, but it was the death of that small, frail child in Reno that kept shaping her thoughts. Work was hard, with people coming out of the woodwork for handouts. People who would have spit on her weeks before the lottery had happened. Now she had many people trying for the best friend spot.

To keep from being hounded, she put the money into all sorts of accounts and investments. Just to keep people from expecting a handout. But no matter how much she did, or gave to charities, that image of the beaten child in the dress could not leave her mind. In the back of her mind, Ideas had been forming. Brewing about like a raging storm, fit to shape a new world.

Eleven years before Year One

Hope had explained her plans and dream to her parents several times. And once again, her father didn't seem to catch on to it. She had already purchased the property next to her parents ranch, netting them another five hundred acres of farm land and her a two story, five bedroom home. But she had her eye on other properties too. One that lay just behind her parents and her properties. Something big, with standing buildings.

"You're doing what?" Her father asked.

"Foster care. Taking in kids that are special, like me."

"Is this about that kid?" Her father asked her, knowing full well it was."You can't beat yourself up over one child."

"Dad, trust me. I have money right now and I want to give to the world, not just take. I want to be someone that people can lean on when times are hard. I want to help out as many kids as I can. I want this place to be a beacon of hope to children who have none." Hope looked up at both her parents. "I'm doing this. I'd feel better if I had you two at my back."

Her father sighed. "I'm not sure about this, but I'll help."

Her mother nodded. "I'll help too. But we're not putting the farm up for mortgage if things get hard. That's my rule here."

"I understand, Mom. This will be sink or swim for me. I totally Understand."

With her connection in Sacramento. And in other parts of the state, the groundwork was laid down. She had given her pitch to the man in Sacramento. She knew it was a long shot. Her fingers were crossed, but to goose things along, she put out internet spaces to promote a safe haven for trans children.

She had to do it for the child she had seen. To prevent murders like that from happening again.

Nine Years before Year One

“Alright. Just sign here and this property is all yours.” The man said. The property in question was the land next to the property that she had bought during a bank sale. It was on a small road that led between her farmhouse and her parents place. It rested on their back boarders. This however was no farm house. This was different. This was An old prison camp. It was a short lived Youth detainee camp, set in the Northern part of the state, far from the hustle and Bustle of city life.It had failed when the state people messed around with money and decided that this was a waste of time. It had sat empty for nearly twenty years when she bought it. Her farmhouse was good. But as the time progressed, she got more and more children. So this was forcing her to get a bigger place. And this place fit the bill.

It also came with the full land rights to another thousand acres, though only three hundred acres of that was actually farm land. The rest was on mountainsides. Now the three of them boasted several streams and wooded areas to their names. Of course to get it set up for her needs, they would have to work at it over time. Changing the cells to something without bars. Altering the rooms and making sure it didn't seem like a prison.

She had even gone the extra length to get her place listed as a private school. Sure they only had about ten kids there, but now they didn't have to send the kids to Portola, where they got bullied each day. Each day she wondered if it was worth it. But that child’s image kept her up at night. Almost taunting her as to how she could make a difference.