Just before he turned off the flashlight, he saw his daughter cuddle as close to Samantha as she could.
To his troubled surprise, he found himself thinking, I don’t blame you.
Chapter Five
Michael awoke, as he always did, in the predawn hours, stretching out the kinks in darkness. The world wasn’t yet quiet. The maelstrom of the storm still raged, but his animals needed to be cared for again today.
Time to see how they’d fared overnight.
He unfolded himself from the heavy quilts on the sofa and built up the fire. After a little coaxing, it burst to life.
That should keep everyone warm until I get back, he thought, then turned to see how his guests and his children were doing.
Lily still lay curled against Samantha under a half dozen layers of quilts, bedspreads and duvets.
Mick had kicked off his covers, but curled into a ball, cold in his sleep, no doubt. Michael tucked the covers back around him.
He stood and stretched, only to find one pair of eyes open and studying him.
“You okay?” he asked Jason. “Warm enough?”
“Yeah,” Jason replied, rubbing his eyes. “Are you going out to your animals now?”
“Yeah.”
“For sure it’s okay for me to come?”
Michael regretted saying he could last night. The stables and the barn were his refuge, his place, almost sacred to him.
He didn’t go back on promises, though. “Sure, if you dress warmly enough.”
Jason jumped out of bed and nearly plunged off the mattress, displacing his younger brother, who slept through it all. Michael tucked Colt in as well and led Jason to the back of the house.
“You use the toilet first before you get dressed. Don’t flush. I’ll go after you.”
While Jason did that, Michael got dressed. Jason scurried into Michael’s cold room to don his clothes and Michael used the facilities.
When he came out, he found Jason getting into his snowsuit. Wind still howled around the house.
When they were ready, he said, “Come on, son.”
He heard a quick intake of air from Jason and cursed the slip of his tongue. Obviously it was a problem for the boy, with his father unavailable overseas. He hoped the animals would take the edge off Jason’s grief.
Before they stepped outside, Michael put a hand on Jason’s shoulder.
“Listen, this is the way it’s gotta be. It’s still storming. We won’t be able to see where we’re going.”
“Because it’s dark outside?”
“No. Because of the storm. Even if it wasn’t still dark, the storm would block out everything around us.”
He pointed to a rope tied to the back of the house. “This runs from the house to the back door of the stable. We’re going to hang on to it and let it guide us all the way there. As long as we do that, we can’t get lost or disoriented. Don’t let go. Okay? Not even for a second. Not even to rub your nose. Got it?”
At Michael’s stern tone, the boy nodded.
“You going to be warm enough?”
“Yeah. It’s cold out, but I feel fine.”
“It’s going to be tough getting through this.” Michael stepped down from the porch, sinking thigh-deep into snow. “Walk right behind me. I mean right behind me. Right in my footsteps, okay? Grab hold of the rope with one hand and the back of my coat with the other. Hold tightly.”
The wind snatched the words out of his mouth, but Jason nodded.
It took them a good ten minutes to muscle across the yard to the stable.
Once there, Michael took down a couple of shovels hanging on the outside wall, beating snow off of them. Between the two of them, they cleared enough snow to open the door.
The warmth and humidity of the animals greeted them when they entered. “Let’s get started on the chores.”
“It’s warmer in here than outside,” Jason remarked, his gaze flitting everywhere, drinking it all in like a half-starved man.
“You ever been in a barn or stable before?” Michael grabbed pitchforks for each of them.
“A couple of times, sir.”
“The name’s Michael. You can use it.”
Jason nodded, his eye on the horse in the first stall.
“This is Rascal.” Michael rubbed the horse’s nose.
“Is he called that because of his character?”
Michael grinned at the astute kid. “You bet. Do you know how to do any chores?”
“Yes, sir. I mean, Michael. We didn’t see a lot of horses in Vegas, but my uncle Travis took me out to whatever ranch he was working on when he could.”
“Vegas? I thought your mom said you drove in from California.”
“Yeah. San Francisco. We only lived there a year. I grew up in Las Vegas.”
Odd place to raise a family. He’d never do it, but to each his own.
Michael introduced the boy to his horses, and the kid took to them like an otter to water.
He didn’t seem to mind the chores. He raked out the stalls happily, even though there was manure in among the straw.
Jason hauled fresh straw from the end of the aisle and food from the bin Michael directed him to.
Used to doing these chores day after day on his own, the boy’s presence was an odd balm to his soul. Michael hadn’t realized he’d been lonely, not out here, at any rate.
Sure, he missed Lillian with a fierce ache, but she hadn’t come out here often. This had always been his domain, but what a joy to share this with a child who was eager and willing to learn.
So far, Mick hadn’t shown a speck of interest in the animals.
They worked steadily before heading to the barn. Again, they grabbed the rope Michael had rigged.
In the barn were all the cattle he hadn’t left out for the winter, the pregnant cows and the old ones he should have gotten rid of, but couldn’t. He shouldn’t be such a softy.
“Is this all of your cows?” Jason asked, patting the nose of a heifer who’d nuzzled his cheek.
“Nope. A lot are out in this weather. I have three hundred cows. I can’t house them all.”
Jason’s eyes widened. “How can they stay alive outside?”
“Just like in the house, I’ve got systems for the land. Every fall, the ranch hands and I check the fences to make sure they’re sturdy, then build up windbreaks with bales of hay.”
He started clearing out soiled bedding and providing fresh.
“The cattle will huddle behind those barriers to get a break from driving wind and snow and to keep each other warm.”
Jason fell in step with him, helping as well as any one of his ranch hands.
“Before the storm, I provided extra feed. It boosts their metabolism and increases body heat. Just like with people. Once the storm settles, I’ll get out to check on them and provide more feed.”
He brushed his hand over one of his cows. “See her shaggy coat?”
Jason nodded, soaking it all up.
“The cattle outside will have even thicker winter coats.”
“What will they drink? Snow?”
“Nah. They can’t take in enough like that. I go out often throughout the winter to break up the ice that covers their water tanks. It’s one of my chores, but when it gets bad, I’ve got water heaters I turn on in the tanks. No matter the weather, there’s still water available.”
They worked for a couple of hours until Jason’s stomach rumbled.
Michael was reluctant to go back to the house, to that living room that felt too crowded. Nonetheless he said, “Let’s go back inside. We need breakfast.”
They fought their way back to the house with their hands on the rope.
Inside the back door, Michael barely had time to take off his boots before he heard yelling in the living ro
om.
Michael smelled smoke. Alarmed, he ran for the front of the house.
Smoke filled the living room. Samantha opened windows while the kids shouted at her and snow streamed inside. Mick used a ranching magazine to fan the fire.
When he saw the problem, Michael calmed down. “Here, give me that. You’re making it worse.”
He took the magazine from Mick and had him sit on the sofa. He ordered the other children to do the same.
Samantha came over and clutched his arm. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”
He shook off her hand. “The fire had burned too low. You put a log on nothing but ashes and all it did was smolder and smoke. You needed to build it back up slowly.”
He didn’t need this kind of mayhem. Usually when he came in from the stable and barns, the children were still asleep and he could have his first coffee of the day in peace before waking them up for breakfast.
Instead, the house was full of panicked children and one scared woman.
He used a poker to push the log to the side of the firebox.
“Here, watch for next time.” Next time. Michael’s heart sank. He couldn’t get his house back to himself soon enough.
Best to concentrate on the good in the situation. He’d liked teaching Jason.
“Come here.” He assumed the boy might be interested in learning this, too. Sure enough, he was.
Michael taught both mother and child how to build a fire.
Jason’s interest didn’t surprise him, but Samantha’s did. She seemed excited, even.
“Show me how to cook breakfast on the fire,” she ordered.
She leaned close.
Turning away, he asked the children what they wanted.
“Bologna sauce,” Mick shouted.
Michael sighed. “Mick, where are your hearing aids?”
His son stomped to his bedroom. A minute later, he returned smiling. He had an enviable resilience. If only Michael could learn from his son.
This time when Mick said, “Bologna sauce,” his volume was normal.
Colt and Lily took up a chorus of bologna sauce with Mick while they beat their heels against the sofa.
Samantha, Michael noticed, did not correct them.
“Bologna sauce it is,” she said with a laugh. Another person who bounced back.
Cripes, he was surrounded by a bunch of beach balls while he was attached to the earth with iron shackles.
Michael set up a grate that held a pot for Samantha to fill with the cooked spaghetti and meat sauce.
Then he went to the back porch to get his barbecue utensils from the big plastic bin beside his grill.
The kids came running as he’d known they would.
“Wow,” breathed Colt, staring out the back window. “Look at the snow. Everything’s white. I can’t even see your backyard.”
When he returned to the living room, he found Samantha at the front window, looking at the road.
“We’re not leaving today, are we?” she asked sounding more than a little lost.
“’Fraid not,” he responded.
She turned away from the window and said quietly, “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. He didn’t want them here, but he couldn’t dwell on it. The kids performing hijinks in his living room needed to be fed.
“Take this.” He held out a long-handled spoon.
She took it and scooped spaghetti and sauce from a big plastic tub into the pot.
She stirred it regularly. Michael had trouble keeping his distance while making coffee at the edge of the fire.
Samantha took one sip and said, “Not bad.”
“I’m surprised you like it. I would have taken you for a latte kind of gal.” He shouldn’t make assumptions, but she’d just driven in from San Francisco and those kids had grown up in Vegas.
“Hey, I’ve had espresso in some of the trendiest coffee shops out there. Espresso. If I can handle that, I can handle anything.”
After they’d eaten and cleaned up, they gathered at the warmest spot in the house, on the two air mattresses in front of the fire.
“I’m going to turn on the generator for a while. Do whatever needs to be done that you need electricity for. Use the toilet and flush it.” Michael stood up. “Once the house is warm enough, take showers. This afternoon we’ll rely on the fireplace again.”
Once the generator was on, they washed dishes and bodies before heading back to the air mattresses.
Samantha said, “It’s going to be a long day if these children can’t get outside.”
“That won’t happen today. It’s wicked out there. Jason and I had to fight the wind and snow to get to the stable. We had to use the rope attached...to...the...house...”
He trailed off when he saw the anger on her face. “You put my son in danger?”
Jason heard her. “Mo-o-om, I wanted to go. I held on to the rope and Michael’s jacket. He took good care of me.”
When she still looked angry, Jason told her about everything they’d done with the animals and how much he’d enjoyed it. Gradually, she softened.
Michael had to turn away to hide a smile. The kid sure knew how to handle his mother...and she had no idea she’d been handled.
As he turned back, her gaze cut to him. Wrong. She knew exactly what her son was doing. She might have forgiven her son, but there was no such forgiveness for Michael.
“You said he could go.”
“I didn’t know it would be dangerous.”
“I made sure he was safe.”
She relaxed.
After lunch, she asked, “Can you leave the generator on for another hour or two? May we watch TV?”
At his raised brow, she said, “I don’t usually advocate TV as a babysitter, but we’re going to run out of things to do. Let’s watch TV now while the house is heating up and then play other games when it’s off.”
Michael turned on the television, but they got only fuzz. “Let’s watch a movie.”
He put Finding Nemo into the DVD player and moved to settle into his armchair, but Samantha said, “Wait!”
Everyone stared at her.
“How can we have a movie without popcorn? I saw corn kernels in the cupboard.”
Lord, this woman liked to plan and direct things to death. Why couldn’t they just watch the movie and be done with it?
Like the pied piper, she led the children to the kitchen and returned ten minutes later with two big bowls of popcorn and drinks for everyone.
“Can we start the movie now?” The hint of sarcasm in Michael’s tone slid off her back.
Queenly among her subjects, nestled in the middle of the sofa with two kids on either side of her, she nodded her head.
He pressed Play.
At the end of the movie, Michael turned off the generator.
They gathered on the air mattresses to make an early dinner over a freshly lit fire.
To the children, Samantha said, “This is fun, isn’t it? We’re camping in the middle of winter.”
“Camping inside is fun!” Mick and Colt jumped and brayed like donkeys.
Dinner was baked potatoes sliced and fried on a pair of cast-iron skillets over the fire and then dumped into a pot to keep warm. Michael fried slices of meat loaf and Samantha heated a bowl of soup for herself.
After dinner, with energy still coursing through their veins, the children chafed against the enforced inactivity.
“You know what this calls for, don’t you?” Samantha jumped up from her seat.
“Mom, don’t,” Jason said, dropping his head into his hands.
Ready to intervene on the boy’s behalf, Michael leaned forward until he noted the glint in Samantha’s eyes.
“Don’t what, honey?” she asked. “Don’t sing?”
Jason lif
ted his head. “You can sing, but please, Mom, no—”
Samantha grinned. “No, what?”
“No disco!” Jason shouted.
His mother laughed and launched into a raucous version of “I Will Survive.”
The kids cheered and jumped up to join her, dancing around while she clapped her hands. Lily warbled, “I will surbibe.”
Michael and Jason exchanged rueful glances.
Where did Samantha find the stamina? Even as her energy and life swirled around him, he resented the chaos and disorder. He wanted his quiet life back.
The performance seemed to wear out the children. When they wound down, Michael understood her strategy. Smart woman.
“Mom,” Colt said. “Tell us a story.”
They stretched out on the mattresses and Samantha started.
“Once upon a time, there was a pretty princess...”
“Mom,” Jason said seriously. “Get real.”
Samantha laughed and said, “Okay.”
To Michael, Jason confided, “She does that every time and she still thinks it’s funny.” He said it with a smile. Kid sure did love his mother.
Samantha told a story about machines that turned into people and people who turned into machines.
“Want the princess story,” Lily mumbled at one point, but the boys were fascinated.
Michael watched and listened, drawn in despite himself. She had a gift, this woman, of turning adversity into fun.
At nine o’clock they turned in for an early night.
In the quiet after the children were asleep, her husky voice said, “We survived the day.”
Michael resisted her voice and her sentiment and her allure. He resented her invitation for him to join the land of the living.
He didn’t want it.
The land of the living was overrated.
He’d been just fine before she came into his house yesterday. So had his kids.
He thought of Lily running into the kitchen yesterday with color in her cheeks and excitement in her voice when she said, “Hurry, Daddy. I have to play.”
Lily needed the land of the living. So did Mick.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “We survived.”
A long time later, Michael fell asleep in his crowded living room.
Rodeo Rancher Page 6