by Sarah Monzon
The screen door to the main house slapped behind me. “Oh, good. Our other guests have arrived.” Gran glided down the front porch steps. “Welcome to the Double B.”
“Your place is beautiful, Mrs. Thomas.” Amanda held up her phone. “Would you mind if I took pictures and posted to social media?” Amanda’s followers would think something fatal had happened to her if she didn’t post a few times a day. But such was the life of a woman who made her living by managing the online presence of sports stars.
“Mind?” Gran’s smile caused the pleats in her face to fold deeper. “Exposure such as that earns you an extra slice of apple pie at dinner tonight.”
Ben and Drew both made a show of slipping their phones out of their pockets, and Gran laughed. “Don’t worry, sugars. I’ve got two boys myself. There’ll be plenty of pie for everyone.” Her eyes flicked between me and the newcomers.
I spoke up. “Gran, I’d like you to meet my friends.” I made introductions and everyone exchanged pleasantries.
Gran threaded her arm through mine and leaned in. “I knew I liked you.” She straightened. “I’ll call Malachi in from the cattle yard to show y’all around the homestead and to your sleeping quarters.”
An echo of the quiet man’s deep laugh rumbled in my memory. A sweetness that coated the bitter aftertaste of Henry’s denouncement. A balm to soothe the pain.
And I’d been right. His laugh held the richest tones, like the enchanted harp in the fairy tale of Jack and the Beanstalk. Not many had heard the mystical strains, but once they did, they had to have the mesmerizing melody for themselves.
That’s where I found myself. The audience to Malachi’s laugh but once, and already an addict who needed an encore.
“Could Jocelyn maybe play tour guide, Mrs. Thomas?” Molly asked. “We have some catching up to do. Unless that’s against ranch policy or she’s needed for something her corporation has planned.”
The rising anticipation of introducing my friends to Malachi halted in anticlimactic fashion. Probably just as well. His list of chores seemed endless, and I could show everyone around the place well enough.
Gran studied me a second. What was going on behind those rheumy eyes of hers?
“Is that what you want, Jocelyn?”
My tongue poked into my cheek. “Sure, Gran.”
She sighed, and I couldn’t help but think my answer had disappointed her. But why? Had she wanted Malachi to leave the cattle yard for some reason?
“That will be all right then,” she said. “I’ll see y’all at supper.” She turned and headed back into the house.
“What do you want to do first?” I asked. “Look around or get settled in at the wagon?”
Sierra wrinkled her nose and kicked at a loose rock. “It stinks here.”
The cow patties did leave a certain aroma, but nothing like driving past the dairy farms of Central Valley. Woowee!
“That’s the smell of greenhouse gases eating away at the ozone layer in the stratosphere.” Nicole’s wrinkled nose matched her daughter’s.
Drew shook his head with a chuckle. “Do you ever stop?”
The woman who should have been a member of Captain Planet’s superhero team glared back. “There is an environmental state of emergency, and it is important my daughter grows up to know how to fight to save the earth.”
Drew squared off with her. “Not everything is a crusade, you know.”
“And not everything is a joke.” Nicole mirrored his stance.
Amanda placed her pinkies in her mouth and shrilled a high, piercing whistle. “Gloves off, lightweights.”
“Did I miss something?” My gaze swung from Nicole to Drew.
“Yeah. You don’t want to be stuck in the car with those two for any length of time,” Betsy quipped.
Molly practically vibrated like she had a secret she could barely contain. “Two words: Toe. Pick,” she sing-songed.
Say what now? I shook my head. How’d we go from boxing metaphors to ice-skating? I loved my friends, but sometimes they didn’t make any sense at all.
Sierra looked up from petting Scout. Knowing Nicole, Sierra was probably used to her mom toeing off with people about one cause or another. The tension radiating off her mom didn’t seem to faze her one bit. “Can we see some of the other animals?”
I smiled at her. “Sure thing. Who do you want to meet first? A newborn calf named Gus, or my favorite horse on the ranch, Domino?”
Her mouth pushed to the side as she considered.
“Well, hello there.” Nate sauntered up from the direction of the cattle yard. His hair and skin glistened in the sun as sweat beaded along his brow. His faded jeans and denim shirt were streaked with dirt and other unidentifiable grunge. “I’d shake y’all’s hands and give you a proper welcome, but as you can see, I’m in need of a shower.”
“This is Nate Thomas,” I introduced.
He nodded to everyone before turning to me. “There’s a new addition in the calving pen. Pretty sure I overheard Mal say the little tyke needs a name.”
A new baby? My heart gave a little kick against my ribs even as I elbowed Nate. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t.”
An impish smirk turned his lips. “That’s not going to stop you though, is it?”
I worried my inside cheek between my molars. I didn’t want to get in Malachi’s way. On the other hand, I really wanted to see the newborn calf.
Sierra looked up at me with wide eyes. I scanned the group. Everyone waited to take their cue from me, but I could see the curiosity and quelled excitement in their expressions.
As long as we didn’t get too close and gave everyone plenty of space, what could the harm be? I unleashed my own anticipation and grinned. “Let’s go see what the stork brought up.”
“Hold up one sec.” Nate ran into the house and came out half a minute later with a bottle of blue Gatorade. “For Mal.”
The cold drink cooled my palm as I led everyone past the stables to cattle yard. I turned on my heel and walked backwards, sweeping my gaze to encompass the seven people who’d driven all the way up here because of me. I may have been struggling with remembering my place in the city versus the country, but I’d never forget the friends I belonged to.
“How’d the award show go, Bets?” Her kinky curls were piled on top of her head in a messy bun, the prospect of a couple of days on a farm not swaying her daily wardrobe of canvas chucks, ripped jeans, and snarky tees.
She shrugged. “It was all right.”
Amanda scoffed. “If by all right you mean the band you did the audio engineering for won in three categories, then yeah, it was all right.”
“Betsy, that’s amazing.” I beamed.
She looked away, masking her face in a veneer of boredom, but the corners of her lips fluttered, giving away her hidden pleasure.
Tough girl, soft heart.
I shifted my gaze to Amanda. “Ready for the start of baseball season?”
She choked up a pretend bat. “We’re gonna hit it out of the park this year.”
My heel caught on a protruding rock, and I stumbled.
Ben caught my elbow. “Careful.”
“Yeah. We’re off-duty.” Drew winked. “Our superhero doctor’s capes were left back at the hospital.”
Nicole rolled her eyes.
A cow’s bellow welcomed us as we neared the maze of movable fence panels. A noteworthy profile stood off to the side, his arms folded over the top rung of a panel, the sole of his boot resting on the bottom, and his hat pulled low. He turned at the sound of our crunching footsteps.
I held out the Gatorade. “Nate said you’ve got a new addition.”
Malachi took the drink and jutted his chin in the direction he’d been watching before our arrival. We all pressed against the rolled bar barrier like it was the glass viewing window of a nursery in a maternity ward during the fifties.
“He’s so cute,” Molly crooned. Ben wove his fingers between hers. “We should have brought Chloe
.”
He snapped a picture with his phone. “She’s having fun with Yaya at the zoo.”
Mama lay on the green grass, baby cuddled against her side. The baby’s red hair stood up in all directions, wet and wiry. Mama reached around with her long neck and swiped her tongue over baby’s shoulder. Spindly legs shook as he pushed himself up on his knobby knees. His back legs straightened, rear in the air. Mama continued licking and he fell back to the ground.
“Come on. You can do it,” I encouraged, gripping the railing.
Rump in the air again. Wobbled. Stumbled on front knees. One front leg extended.
My breath suspended.
There, the second. He braced himself, legs spread. The umbilical cord hung to the ground.
How silly was it that I felt like a proud mama? But just witnessing that moment—new life, struggle, triumph—was a blessing that would stay with me. My gaze found Malachi’s. He must have been experiencing the same joy that knocked against my breastbone.
His eyes roamed my face, his lips curving at my unadulterated wonder.
“Can we really name him?” Sierra’s small voice severed the light tug that had momentarily lured me closer to Malachi.
Malachi blinked, then tilted his face to the rest of the group. He looked back at me.
I laughed. “Don’t give me that look. Nate’s the one who put the idea into her head.”
“Of course he did.” Malachi dropped his arms from the railing.
“I think you should name him Snoopy,” Sierra said.
“After Charlie Brown’s beagle?” Nicole asked.
Malachi nodded to Sierra. “Red Baron, right?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
With the baby steady on its legs, Mama stood also. Snoopy stumbled to her side, stretched his head under her belly, and began to nurse.
Malachi lifted his hat off his head and set it on Sierra’s. “I would’ve given him the same handle. If ranchers named their cows, that is,” he said as he strode away.
I watched Malachi’s retreating back. The enigmatic man was a puzzle.
One I found myself increasingly wanting to figure out.
12
Malachi
Just when I’d started to get a little more comfortable with the number of females on the ranch, they’d multiplied.
Burgers sizzled on the grill, Miriam at the helm with a spatula in hand. My focus narrowed on the cooking utensil. Any minute now, one of the guests might see me sitting on this patio chair with nothing occupying my hands, an invitation for conversation. And now that the guest dynamics had changed, the probability of exchanging small talk with a woman increased. As did the likelihood of making a fool of myself. I had, after all, spelled out in great detail the problems related to mastitis in nursing cows last time I’d been cornered at a ranch barbecue. The poor woman had turned green as I described the red, swollen mammary glands in the udders. She’d walked away, her arms crossed as if she were protecting her own chest.
I didn’t need a repeat of that fiasco, and I doubted any of the unsuspecting women wanted to be subjected to such dialogue. Not that I planned to speak on such topics. I never did. But somehow my nerves in a woman’s presence severed the channels of common sense from my brain to my mouth, and all kinds of awkward dialogue jumped off my tongue.
Better to avoid conversation as much as possible.
I stood and walked across the deck to Miriam and the grill. I’d learned long ago that if a person was busy—namely, me—then other people were less likely to approach. One of the pleasant side effects of productivity.
“Need some help?” I eyed the patties charring and reached for a slice of cheese on a plate.
Miriam smacked my hand. “Step away from the grill if you know what’s good for you.”
“I was only trying to help.”
“Last time you ‘helped,’ two burgers crumbled and fell between the grates.”
A pit master I was not.
Laughter floated on the open air, drowning out the sputter of meat juices falling to the charcoal below the grates. Across the patch of grass in front of the house, Jocelyn and her friends approached the rest of the group gathered for an outdoor dinner. Except this was a version of Jocelyn I had never seen before. Gone were the boots too polished to have seen a muddy paddock and jeans with no wear marks brightening the denim. Instead, a long, flowy dress cascaded down her lithe body like a waterfall artfully draping itself down a regal cliff. The gentle slope of her smooth shoulders was exposed, as was the slender column of her throat. She moved with a familiar grace, but seemed a carefree, almost uninhibited version of the person she’d been the last few days. As if she were saying This is who I am without any pretenses.
My throat tightened. Jocelyn had always been a beautiful woman, but like this…she was stunning.
An elbow jammed into my side. Miriam grinned at me. “You should go talk to her.”
“Easy for you to say.” My gaze snagged on two very round, very symmetrical, very not-beef patties on the grill. “What are those?” I pointed.
Miriam slid her metal spatula under one of the circles and flipped it. “Veggie burgers.”
“Someone brought veggie burgers to a cattle ranch?” I sputtered.
She flipped the other patty. “Nicole said they’re made from pea protein. I might try one.”
I bit my tongue against saying anything further and turned. The grill hadn’t been my escape after all. I glanced up and jolted to a stop. The small army of women had arranged themselves on the outdoor sectional.
A little general in my brain ordered Retreat! and I stumbled to obey. About face. March.
Maybe Gran needed help in the kitchen. I rounded the side of the house and slowed my steps at the sight of the young girl sitting in one of the rocking chairs, a chess set on a barrel between her and another rocker. Sierra spun the rounded bottom of the queen in a bored circle.
“Know how to play?” I asked, lowering myself into the empty chair.
Her head popped up, and she stared at me across the game board. “Yeah.”
I advanced one of the white pawns up two spaces to f4 then sat back and raised an eyebrow in challenge.
Intelligent brown eyes held mine as a small hand pushed a black pawn into the e6 square.
I broke eye contact to move another pawn into g4. Chess could take a while, so I leaned back to wait on Sierra to make her move. My spine had no sooner touched the back of the rocker than Sierra gripped her queen and moved it on a diagonal to h4.
“Checkmate.”
Checkmate? She’d only had two turns. How could she have checkmate already? I leaned forward and studied the board, looking for ways to protect my king. Nope. No safe squares for the king to move to. I continued to scan the board. None of my pieces could move to block her queen from checking my king. No pieces to capture her queen either. My chin tilted, and I stared into Sierra’s smiling face, my jaw unhinging a little.
“Want to play again?” she asked.
I moved my two pawns back to their starting points. “How old are you again?”
Her smile widened. “I’m eight.”
“Someone should have warned you.” Jocelyn walked over with a mason jar of lemonade in her hand. The ice tinkling against the glass sounded like mocking laughter. She tweaked Sierra’s pony tail. “We all stopped playing her ages ago. She never lets us win.”
“It usually takes longer than two moves though.”
Ouch. “Maybe we should try something more my speed then. Up for a round of Old Maid?”
The hem of Jocelyn’s dress skimmed her ankles. “Miriam said the food was ready.”
“Ah.” I held my hand out to Sierra to shake. Not a hint of surprise or pleasure at being treated like a grown up entered her expression as she slid her half-sized palm into mine. A little woman in a young girl’s body.
She squeezed my hand in an impressive shake, meeting my gaze with a serious look. “Good game.” Her severe mien cracked to re
veal a small incline at the borders of her lips.
I followed the two back to the large deck. Nate had already started a fire in the sunken pit at the end, and a few of the Whalen group retreaters sat around the flames, sturdy paper plates laden with burgers, baked beans, and potato salad resting on their laps.
“Go wash up, Sierra.” Miss Nicole gave her a little nudge toward the door, a plate in her other hand. She looked up at me. Blinked.
The pressure to say something pushed against my esophagus. I cleared my throat. “Good kid.”
Tightness seeped from around her mouth. “I think so.”
I nodded once. “Bright.”
Her gaze shifted off-center to my left. A honeysuckle scent filled my nostrils, scattering any remaining intelligent thoughts.
“How many moves?” Miss Nicole asked.
Slim fingers curled lightly around my tricep, and I froze.
“Two. She’s gotten better, hasn’t she?”
Miss Nicole rolled her eyes. “YouTube videos.”
“Don’t knock YouTube. It’s how I learned how to ride a horse, remember?”
My body shifted at an angle, capturing Jocelyn’s fingers between my arm and ribcage and bringing her a hair’s breadth nearer. Unintentional, but my abysmal chess game proved I didn’t think steps ahead. But not even her close proximity could scatter my surprise. “How can you learn to ride a horse on YouTube?”
Her delicate chin rose half an inch. “You can learn anything on the internet.”
“Did the video tell you to keep your eyes shut the whole time?”
Miss Nicole gasped. “You didn’t.”
Jocelyn averted her gaze. “Maybe.”
The screen door banged shut and Sierra reappeared. Nicole handed her the plate she’d been holding. Her nose scrunched as she surveyed the piles of food then stepped past and took a seat on the edge of the deck. Scout walked over and sat beside her. Sierra looked around to make sure no one watched before she offered the dog half her burger.