His Dry Creek Inheritance

by Janet Tronstad

  He hadn’t fit in here as a growing boy. He didn’t know what made him think it would be any different now. He’d done fine in the army. He’d known what was expected of him. Nobody cared why he was a hero or if he cared deeply about anyone else. Not even the doctors putting his leg back together asked those kinds of questions.

  “Maybe the army is where I belong,” Mark said, feeling a little depressed at the thought. He’d have to notify them if he wanted to stay in the service.

  His dog whined. Mark looked down at the mutt. The animal had a pained expression on its face.

  “You understand, don’t you, partner?” Mark asked, feeling better.

  The dog yipped twice, increasing in volume each time.

  “Oh,” Mark said as he brought the pickup to a halt. Maybe the pained expression wasn’t for his situation. “I should have thought of that.”

  Mark stepped out of the cab and walked around to the passenger side. He opened the door and the mutt jumped out. Mark kept the animal on its makeshift leash, but he let him move around until he found a place to do his business.

  Within minutes, Mark and his dog were on their way again.

  When they turned off the gravel road onto the dirt lane that led to the bunkhouse, Mark searched to see if there were any signs that someone else had beaten him back here from church. He knew Gabe parked his car right in front of the main house and it wasn’t there. Josh, however, could slip his pickup into several places. Often the other man parked on the side of the barn. It didn’t look like Josh was home yet either.

  Mark could see a distant vehicle coming down the gravel road he had just traveled. “I might try the barn myself.”

  Mark hadn’t had a chance to look inside the barn since he’d been back, but he suspected there would be a place where he could fix a bed for his dog. The mutt hadn’t seemed to like being in churches so Mark wasn’t sure how it would react to a house. The barn would certainly have an animal smell to it and that might appeal to his guest.

  The barn’s roof consisted of rough handmade shingles and several of them were missing, letting streams of light inside in various places. Mark knew he’d have to get up on that roof and fix them during the next dry spell. A line of stalls filled the far end of the barn. A tack room opened off the side and bales of hay were clustered beside the wide main door—the one that allowed a tractor and wagon to be driven inside to load or unload feed.

  By the time Josh’s pickup pulled up to the house, Mark had a stall outfitted for his dog.

  “It’s for your own protection,” Mark said, reassuring the mutt as he coaxed it into the enclosure. “I don’t want you running around until the neighbors know you mean no harm.”

  Mark put the final blocking board in place as Josh stepped through the barn door. The man must have walked over from the house. He was in the shadows at first, but then he moved slightly and his white shirt stood out.

  “Need any help?” Josh asked as he looked around. He had on a new black Stetson and a silver-plated belt buckle. “That dog hasn’t bitten you or anything, has he?”

  Mark shook his head. “He’s more frightened than anything. Most any animal will fight back when attacked. And he was up against a pit bull.”

  “I reckon that’s so,” Josh said as he walked over to the stall and leaned over to see the dog. “Just so you know, Rosie wants to come out here. That’s all she talked about on the ride home. She calls him the poor little doggie.”

  Mark grinned. “That girl would take up for a full-grown wildcat if she felt sorry for it. I’ll have to see how it goes though.” He considered it a minute. His dog was quiet. “I guess she could come see him now that he can’t get to her. Maybe after we eat. The dog is acting pretty tame.”

  Josh nodded and was quiet for a moment. Then he turned to face Mark.

  “Just so you know,” Josh added, sounding reluctant. “Bailey doesn’t seem to want to come out here, dog or no dog. She’s...” He paused. “Upset, I think.”

  Mark didn’t know what to say to that so he let the comment go unanswered even though he knew Josh was studying him.

  Josh finally cleared his throat. “Did you really kiss Bailey?” His words were abrupt, like he was exploding with curiosity. “I didn’t see it, but I heard it was a smacker.”

  “Heard it from whom?” Mark asked, trying to keep his voice even. Bailey seemed particularly upset with gossip.

  “Everybody,” Josh answered. “The guys at the hardware store. Even the women. I don’t think the children knew. Unless maybe some of the older ones.”

  Mark’s teeth clenched and he had to slowly relax them. “Sometimes a kiss isn’t what it looks like.”

  “How’s that?” Josh asked, looking sincerely interested.

  “Sometimes in the battlefield, men do strange things,” Mark replied. He didn’t know where that came from, even though it was true. Some things a man just couldn’t explain. He wished everyone would just ignore that kiss.

  “Oh, it was the gun,” Josh replied, relief evident in his voice. “That makes sense. I’m sure that old gun of Mr. Clemens’s brought back memories of war for you. Sort of like post-traumatic stress.”

  Mark looked up in surprise.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Mark said, although he didn’t know what he would say. None of the doctors had suggested he had post-traumatic stress. They’d asked a few questions, but mostly they had just focused on putting his leg back together.

  As Mark stood there he became aware Josh was watching him, probably looking for anything like twitches or tics that would prove his theory. Mark was glad the man hadn’t seen him fall to the ground earlier over a dog barking.

  Suddenly, Mark heard the sound of another vehicle driving up the lane.

  “That will be Gabe,” Josh said and leaned closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain to him about the PTSD. We don’t want anyone giving you a hard time.”

  “You don’t need to do that—” Mark started, but Josh had already walked out of the barn. The man was clearly on a mission to save Mark’s reputation.

  Mark looked back over at his dog. “I’ll see about some water and food for you.”

  He needed to go into the house and talk to Bailey. He wished he had some flowers to give her. Or chocolates. Women liked chocolate. He looked around the barn as though there might be something hiding in the corners he could use. There was nothing.

  He walked up to the door of the house with empty hands and heard the sounds of voices coming from the kitchen. Josh was there talking. And he heard Gabe, too. Someone had opened a kitchen window and a faint trace of smoke was coming out. That’s why he heard the voices.

  Mark knocked on the door and, given the squeal he heard, he guessed Rosie was going to open it for him. The little girl was likely the only one happy to see him.

  Rosie waited patiently while he took off his boots and then led him into the kitchen. The smoke grew stronger as he stepped inside the room.

  “Oh,” Bailey turned. She was fanning a burnt piece of bread. He supposed that was why her cheeks were so pink.

  “Toast gone wrong?” Mark asked lightly.

  “I didn’t know it was inside when I turned the oven on to heat up the lasagna for dinner,” Bailey said.

  Mark noticed she hadn’t looked at him once since he’d stepped into the room. In contrast, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off that black piece of bread.

  Not that anyone else was shy about giving him some attention, Mark noted. Gabe was staring at him like he was a specimen of some sort. Josh managed to seem both sympathetic and curious.

  Little Rosie looked guilty. “I put the bread in the oven,” she confessed, staring at the floor. “I wanted it warm for breakfast and I forgot.”

  “That’s okay, sweetie,” Bailey said as she reached over to hug her daughter. “Ask me if you want something heated up. But I
know you’re sorry. We all make mistakes sometimes.”

  “We sure do,” Mark agreed heartily, hoping Bailey was including him in that final statement.

  Bailey straightened up and eyed him directly. For a moment, Mark thought she was going to say all was well between them. But she didn’t.

  “When were you going to tell me?” she demanded instead and then stumbled. “Us, I mean—when were you going to tell us?” She gestured with her arm to include Josh and Gabe.

  Mark knew she was looking at him, but he was clueless. “Tell you what?”

  “About the PTSD?” she said.

  Mark thought she looked a little hurt.

  “I don’t have PTSD,” he insisted. This whole theory had gotten out of control. “My leg got hit. That’s all. My head is fine.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Bailey said. Now she looked offended. She clearly did not believe him.

  “I don’t have PTSD,” Mark repeated. He wasn’t sure how many times he would have to say that before anyone believed him.

  “Then why did you adopt that stray dog?” Gabe asked. “I’ve heard of soldiers coming back and how they like to have dogs around them. Makes them feel safe. That’s because of PTSD.”

  “Those are usually trained dogs,” Mark protested. “My dog isn’t the same. I don’t think he can do anything. I just kind of—well, I like him.”

  “He fought off a pit bull,” Josh said. “I’d say that’s doing something.”

  “You like him?” Bailey asked Mark, sounding puzzled. “You don’t even know him.”

  “I’m sure he makes you feel safe,” Gabe said like that closed the argument.

  “I feel good enough on my own,” Mark said. “Just fine. I can take care of myself.”

  No one said anything at that, but Mark didn’t think anyone was convinced that he was telling the truth.

  “Of course you’re fine,” Bailey finally said patiently as she turned to the counter and put the burnt slice of bread down on it. “Let me get this dish of lasagna in the oven and we’ll eat in twenty minutes or so. Can someone get the plates out of the cabinet?”

  “I’m happy to,” Gabe said and walked over to the cabinet.

  “I’ll get glasses of water for everyone,” Josh offered.

  “We have iced tea, too,” Bailey said as she turned to show Josh where it was.

  Everyone was busy and Mark did not know what to do.

  “I’ll take out a pan of water to my dog,” Mark decided he could use a break. Rosie wanted to go with him, but he convinced her to stay and help her mother, saying he would only take the water out and come right back.

  As he started walking back to the barn, he consoled himself with the knowledge that, if he was still in the army, his troops would at least believe him when he told them something. He did not have PTSD.

  * * *

  Bailey put cabbage, carrots and a bit of green pepper into a small chopper so she could make some coleslaw to go with their lasagna. She wished she had lettuce, but she didn’t. Cabbage kept longer on the ranch. One of the women at the funeral had made some sourdough rolls though and Bailey decided to heat them.

  She felt better now that she knew what had prompted that kiss from Mark. She should have realized that a broken-down gun would bring up memories for a soldier who had been recently wounded. Although, she frowned uncertainly, she didn’t think he’d been shot with a bullet. She hadn’t asked, and she should have.

  In any event, Josh seemed confident that PTSD was what explained Mark’s actions earlier this morning. She glanced out the window and saw Mark making his way to the barn, with a pan of water in one hand and his cane in the other. He seemed a little unsteady to her, she thought suddenly. Maybe he should have a dog to trail along with him.

  She should take better care of him, too. He was her best friend, even if they had been out of touch for almost ten years. She needed to help him adjust if he was having flashbacks and anything else that gave warriors nightmares.

  She remembered the day he came to Dry Creek all those years ago. He’d been six years old, but he walked straight as he followed a woman social worker into the café. He’d stared ahead, his eyes cold and defiant, as the woman explained that she was looking for the Rosen ranch.

  Bailey, seven years old herself, was there having an ice cream cone with her new foster parents and she knew all about social workers. She left the table and walked up to Mark and put her hand on his arm. He didn’t even turn to look at her.

  The social worker didn’t notice her at first since she was talking to someone who was giving her directions. When she turned and saw Bailey there though the woman’s face went pale.

  “Move away from him,” the woman ordered like Mark was a wild animal.

  Bailey hadn’t liked that back then. She wondered now though if Mark’s PTSD wasn’t partially caused by the way he was treated in the foster care system back then. At least, she felt she was on a stronger footing with him now that she knew he needed understanding. She was good at helping others.

  While the lasagna was heating, Bailey went back to her bedroom and opened her suitcase. Her luggage had been near the back door of the café just like the delivery people had told her it would be. She couldn’t wait to get into some real clothes. As grateful as she was to the church for the loan of the robe, it was going to the cleaners and then back to the church the first chance she got.

  Within ten minutes, Bailey was back in the kitchen with her hair combed and wearing a nice pleated coral blouse. She had put a dab of lipstick on her lips and some blush on her cheeks. Not that she was trying to impress anyone, she assured herself. She just felt more confident when she looked better.

  Mark came back from the barn in time to get an extra chair for the table. For months now, there had only been four people at the Sunday table—Bailey, Eli, Rosie and Gabe.

  Soon everyone was settled in their chairs. She’d put a white cloth on the Formica table for dinner. The bowl of coleslaw and pan of lasagna were within everyone’s reach along with the platter of warm rolls.

  “Everything smells good,” Mark said with appreciation in his voice. “And I like the blouse you’re wearing.”

  The two other men looked over as though they had just noticed the change.

  “Thank you,” Bailey said to Mark.

  Josh and Gabe both mumbled something about her looking good.

  She nodded to them.

  She felt the silence as they all sat there for a moment longer. This was usually Eli’s time to speak. Someone needed to say a prayer and Eli wasn’t here. She couldn’t ask Mark; he’d made it clear where he stood on church and she didn’t want to put him on the spot. And it didn’t seem right to ask Josh when there was a Rosen at the table.

  Finally, Bailey said, “Gabe, would you say a blessing on the meal?”

  Gabe nodded solemnly as though he understood what that meant. “I miss him, too.”

  Gabe’s prayer was short, but heartfelt.

  For a time, everyone was busy eating. Bailey decided she liked having a full table for Sunday dinner. It made it feel like they were a family. By next week though, the food offerings from the funeral would be gone. She’d have to go into Miles City to buy supplies.

  “Is anyone planning a trip into Miles City this week?” Bailey asked. Everyone was finishing their meal. “I’m going to need to go in.”

  Mark looked over and set his fork down on his plate. “Is this a doctor’s appointment? For the baby?”

  “No, I’m set for that,” Bailey said. Eli had been generous about insurance for her and the baby. “Mrs. Hargrove has been taking me. I don’t want her to have to make an extra shopping trip to the market though.”

  The clock on the wall struck a soft chime. It was one o’clock.

  “I can take you to the doctor’s now that I’m here,” Mark
said. “And I can take you to the grocery store, too, or I can take a list in and get what is needed. That might be better. I don’t think you should be doing anything you don’t have to right now.”

  Gabe frowned. “I can take a day off work. I think I should be the one to take you to your appointments now that Eli is gone. After all, I’m your closest adult relation.”

  “How do you figure?” Mark challenged the other man. “She’s the widow of the son of your father’s cousin. I don’t think that makes you very related.”

  “Still,” Gabe said stubbornly.

  “And,” Mark continued. “You don’t exactly stand beside her with all this gossip.”

  “We can be family and disagree on things,” Gabe insisted.

  “Not when it comes to things like that,” Mark said curtly.

  Bailey felt her cheeks heat up. She wasn’t used to two men quarreling over her. Although, she did admit, she was used to seeing these two particular men butt heads for other reasons. Mark, Gabe and Junior used to tussle all the time.

  “There’s no need for you to take off work, Gabe,” Bailey said. “Although I do appreciate the offer. And, I agree. We are family—sort of, anyway.”

  Gabe looked smug. “I would like to talk to your doctor and ask him what sex the baby is.”

  Bailey was startled. “Why? He couldn’t tell you anyway. I haven’t had a sonogram.”

  “Why not?” Gabe demanded. “Surely you know that’s important. Eli must have—”

  “Yes,” Bailey said. “Eli kept insisting and I kept saying no. I don’t care if my baby is a boy or a girl. I will welcome it with joy and love either way.”

  “But—” Gabe started. “The will.”

  “I know Eli wanted a grandson,” Bailey said. “Either way, I will be happy.”

  “We all will be,” Mark said and he beamed at Bailey. “I want to know if the doctor has any recommendations though. Bed rest, that sort of thing. You must be getting close to the delivery date. I know there have to be things we should be doing. You know, vitamins. Breathing exercises. That sort of thing.” Mark stopped and stared at the glass of iced tea by her plate. “Should you be drinking that? Does it have caffeine? Wouldn’t milk be better?”