Joy Carlstrom had just received an answer to her prayer, a miracle in the form of a young cowboy. The western sun beat down on Joy Carlstrom’s young body as she lay sprawled across a pile of dirt that would be her pa’s resting place. With no one to help, she cried out to God. With only a rusty shovel, she needed help to bury her pa. She prayed for a miracle. When the uneven clip-clop of a horse’s hooves sounded behind her, Joy sprang to her feet. A young man stood nearby staring at her. With a tear-streaked face, she waved the rusty shovel like a weapon while demanding, “Who are you? What do you want?” The tall man removed his hat to show copper- hued hair and kind eyes. “Ma’am, don’t be afraid. We just need a little water, and I’d be grateful if you could lend me a tool to remove the stone from my horse’s hoof.” Joy’s eyes widened as realization struck her. Was this man God’s miracle?