collapse economy throughout the northern states.
After September 11, 2001, security upgrades to the Minuteman III defense system began in earnest. Contractors poured thicker concrete around the silos, while others installed new security cameras and upgraded passive IR sensors. The rapid response team from the 341st Security Forces Squadron was expanded and issued new equipment.
Great Falls, Montana
One Year Before the Crunch
Joshua had been introduced to Kelly Monroe at a church picnic, just a year before the economic turmoil engulfed the nation. Peter Blanchard, a missileer lieutenant in the 10th Squadron, had invited Joshua to come with him to the harvest picnic. They wore casual civilian clothes, so only their severe short-cropped haircuts signaled that they were from Malmstrom.
Peter Blanchard had said that he was interested in dating a young lady named Stacia, but she wasn’t there. Peter and Joshua walked over to Stacia’s friend Kelly. Peter said, “Hi! This is Joshua, from the base.”
Kelly said hello back with a smile.
“Where’s Stacia?” Peter asked.
“Sorry, she had to work today. But she should be at church tomorrow.”
“Oh. So I don’t suppose she’ll be at the Hawk Nelson concert tonight, either.”
“Nope. She said that she has to work until nine this evening. Sorry.”
Peter muttered, “I don’t know how I’ll ever have my schedule match up with hers so we can go to a concert or a dance.”
Then he elbowed Joshua and joked, “Joshua here already has Shirley, so his dance card is full.”
Joshua laughed and said cryptically, “I can get Shirley to trot, but she doesn’t foxtrot.”
Kelly cocked her head and asked, “Are we talking about a young lady, or a horse?”
“You nailed it. Shirley is my mare.”
“What breed?
“An American Bashkir Curly.”
Kelly beamed. “Those are gorgeous. How tall and how old is she?”
“She’s just shy of fifteen hands, and four years old. Her ground manners are a little lacking, but I’m working diligently on training her.”
“My horse is a bit of a brat, too. He’s a standard-bred gelding, three years old—”
“Well, my eyes are glazing over,” Peter interrupted, “so I’ll leave you two avid equestrians to talk while I get myself a hamburger.” He stepped away.
Kelly asked, “Is he like that at the Bachelor Officers Quarters, too?”
“I wouldn’t know. I live off-base. And I don’t spend that much time with the officers. I’m just here because the lieutenant knew that I’m a Christian, and he thought that I’d enjoy the company.”
“You love the Lord?” Kelly asked in a more serious tone.
“Oh yes, with all my heart. I was saved when I was twelve.”
Kelly blinked and said, “Coming here with Peter, I just assumed that you were an officer, too.”
“No. I’m just a lowly E-4.”
“Is that like a corporal in the Army?”
“Yeah. It’s the same pay grade.”
Kelly smiled and said, “My dad was a corporal in the Army. He was in the Field Artillery. He drove a multiple rocket transport thingy. He didn’t like the Army much.”
Joshua liked Kelly’s smile, and her expressive blue eyes. She was above average height, slender, and had a fairly plain face. There was a two-inch-long jagged upward-curving white scar on her chin and left cheek that he later learned was from when she had been thrown from a horse onto a barbed wire fence. That had happened when she was ten years old. Her hair was dark brown, worn in a ponytail, mostly hidden by a brown suede baseball cap. The hat had a stylized horse’s head and shoulders with a flowing mane embroidered on it. She was twenty years old, but looked a bit older since she had spent so much time outdoors.
Kelly wore Wrangler jeans, scuffed Durango saddle boots, and a turquoise short-sleeve plaid shirt. In keeping with her no-nonsense style, Kelly wore no jewelry other than a fairly ornate silver belt buckle.
“How long’ve you been a rider?” she asked.
“Since I was old enough to walk.”
She grinned. “Me, too.”
They stared at each other’s face for a while, smiling.
Joshua was so caught up in the moment, he asked, “Would you like to go for a ride somewhere tomorrow after church?”
Kelly laughed, and said, “Whoa there, cowboy. Could we get past some preliminaries first, like your family name, and the church you attend and such?”
Over lunch, they plunged into a wide-ranging two-hour conversation. As the picnic gathering broke up, they scheduled a horseback ride at Buffalo Jump State Park, ten miles south of Great Falls.
At just before two the next afternoon, Kelly Monroe pulled her pickup and trailer into the dusty extension lot at the park, beyond the pavement. There were seven pickups with horse trailers there. She could see that Joshua already had his horse saddled and waiting.
She said simply, “Hi!” and stepped out of the cab. Joshua led his horse over to the front of Kelly’s horse trailer, and fastened his mare’s reins to a tie-down.
“I’d like you to meet Shirley Temple,” he said.
Kelly approached the big chesnut mare and exclaimed, “Oh, she’s a beauty. The waves in her coat are just amazing.”
“And that’s just her
Kelly walked around and sized up the mare. She said simply, “Wow.” Then she added, “Her eyes have a strange look to them. Kinda sleepy-looking.”
“Yeah, that’s a trait of American Bashkirs. Slanty eyes. Just like us Nipponese.”
They both laughed.
Kelly asked, “How much of the Russian blood does she have?”
Joshua shook his head and said, “Oh, now I must warn you that you’re veering off into myth, legend, and Breed Association marketing hype. Truth be told, and after all the genetic tests were run, the American Bashkir Curlies were proven not related
After so many years of practice, it took just a minute for Kelly to unload her gelding, Fritz. Tacking him up was also remarkably quick, as she worked with practiced precision. Joshua was impressed by the way Kelly had set up the inside of the front door of her horse trailer with a peg board with hooks for hoof care tools and grooming supplies, two leads, a quirt, and two sets of hobbles. The items were all in neat rows and bundled with rubber bands. After buttoning up the back of the trailer, Kelly said, “Okay, let’s roll.”
They mounted their horses and started off at a loose-reined walk. Since it was a hot afternoon, they never advanced the gait beyond a trot. And, as they both desired anyway, a walking pace was more conducive to conversation. They stopped frequently to drink, to check hooves, and to let the horses rest.
Kelly’s horse was a seal brown, a deep brown with lighter points—what was sometimes called a “copper- nosed” brown. Fritz was just half a hand taller than Shirley. Shirley’s height was considered atypical of American Bashkirs, since the mares were rarely more than fourteen hands tall.
A couple of times the horses were startled by darting ground squirrels which were present in large numbers at the park. Kelly commented, “It’s a good thing my dog isn’t here. She’d be going crazy.”
They rode all of the trails that were open to horses that afternoon, ranging around three sides of the dramatic jump cliff at the 1,400-acre park, staying until just before the park closed at 6 p.m. They watered their
