He spoke with such sincerity, Myra didn’t doubt he meant the words that struck lances through her heart.
Chapter Nine
A series of storms swept through Snowy Owl Crossing in the next weeks. Weather forecasters advised their listeners to say goodbye to fall and hello to an early winter.
County snowplows maintained the road to and from town, and Zeke helped Myra attach a snow blade to the tractor to clear paths from the barn to all of the holding pens. They also opened a lane to the main road.
“Working together sure makes this easier,” she told Zeke. “I did this by myself the last couple of years.”
“You mean you didn’t call neighbors to help?”
“They would have, but why ask unless it’s for something I can’t do alone?”
“It’s nice to know people are only a phone call away,” he said.
“Some winters take more neighbors helping neighbors,” Myra responded.
And it seemed she’d no more than made the prediction when needs arose.
In the ensuing weeks, Myra watched Zeke pitch in anytime a neighboring rancher asked for a hand repairing equipment. It got so friends who’d once called her now phoned Zeke first. Her breath felt constricted as she felt her hold on the Flying Owl lessening.
The simple truth was—in really bad weather ,outdoor activities ground to a halt. Ranchers slogged through essentials like feeding stock twice a day. Otherwise more time was spent indoors.
Myra worked on her dollhouses and kept out of Zeke’s way as he moved things around to paint the house. One day he went to town and brought home what he needed to change out the sink and install countertops he’d preordered.
“You’re ruining the old-world charm of the house,” Myra fretted at supper after he’d shoved the table and chairs aside yet again.
“Ruining?” He glanced up from his plate.
“Yes. There was nothing wrong with how the kitchen looked. I no longer come in this room and picture Gram and Gramps living here.” What she meant was that Zeke had put his stamp overtop everything she loved.
“They aren’t here any longer,” Zeke said quietly. “Fresh paint brightens the rooms. That sink was older than an antique. It was only a matter of time before the pipes rusted through. Then we’d have a flood, which would mean replacing the whole floor. Orion might have drowned,” he added, gesturing toward the pen.
His last dire prognostication shut Myra up. She ate without talking until Zeke broke the silence. “I’ve heard you rummaging around in the extra bedroom late at night. Are you cutting out a new dollhouse?”
“I’m packing materials. You said your brother might visit. He’ll need a bed.”
“There’s no rush. I talked to Seth at Halloween. He’s hunting opals in Australia and plans to winter there, scuba diving with a fellow gem hunter. Our winter is their summer.”
“Still, I won’t start any new houses. I have ten to sell at the bazaar.”
“About those. I looked one over the other day. Have you thought about putting lights in some? If you lit even half, you could sell them for more and it wouldn’t cost but pennies to do.”
“Lights? Can you show me?”
They cleared the dishes and Zeke brought a dollhouse to the table. “Here, you can add a battery pack and a switch. You have these little lamps already. Run thin wire along the ceiling and add in a micro LED.” He showed her how.
“Zeke, that’s brilliant. Weather permitting, I’ll go buy wiring after feeding stock tomorrow.”
“I’ll ride along. You can help choose paint for the living room. It’s time for that orangutan orange to go.”
She scowled. “It makes the room warmer.”
“So would gold.” He smiled. “Do you have a minute to look at a notebook I started? Joe Watson suggested I list major chores that need doing and when.”
“I intended to type something up,” Myra said. “All this bad weather threw me off. But if you write the instructions yourself, they’ll probably make more sense later.”
He brought out a pocket notebook and Myra had to admit he had neat printing for a man, and he’d absorbed all she’d told him. Things she was sure he hadn’t understood. “Looks to me as if you’ve got everything down. Calving is the next big operation, and you have to experience one season to understand all the steps.”
“Believe it or not, cattle ranching is beginning to make sense. I had no idea what to expect when I came here. You’re an excellent teacher, Myra. I see why your folks steered you toward a career in education. I actually feel as if I belong now.”
She blinked rapidly to hold back a rush of tears. She’d hoped for quite the opposite effect, but was saved any comment because the kitchen lights flickered twice and went out.
“Whoa!” Zeke reached for her and pulled her close. “What now?”
She spoke against his neck. “We give it ten minutes to see if they come back on. If not, we start the generator.” She pulled back a bit. “Did you put the LED lantern back after you tore the old sink out?”
“Yes. And I noticed a couple stashed around the house.” Zeke let go of her and felt his way along the new countertop. He got out the double mantle lantern and switched it on. “Whew, I’m glad the batteries are good.”
“They get replaced every September. That’s something you should write in your notebook.”
Orion dug under his quilt until he’d covered up, leaving only his snout visible.
“He doesn’t like the lantern,” Myra said. “I guess because the light is whiter and more intense.”
Zeke leaned over the pen and rubbed the pig’s ears. “Poor little guy’s scared. His heart is beating as fast as when the owl tried to carry him off.” He stood up. “Tell me where to access the generator. I’ll go start it.”
“You know about generators?”
“Oh yeah. That’s high on the list of stuff the army teaches.”
“It’s housed behind the back porch. Take the lantern. You can’t miss it. But be careful. It can be cantankerous. Oh, listen to that wind. You’ll want your jacket.”
“Is there a lantern in the living room? I can bring it back to you so you have a light while I go outside.”
“It’s in the pocket under the window seat. I’ll just get Orion and come with you. We may be without power for some time. That means no TV, no radio, no microwave or dishwasher. The unit isn’t strong enough to light the whole house. So depending on what caused the outage, we may be early to bed, late to rise for days.”
“Sounds like we need a bigger generator,” Zeke grumped.
“Gramps put it on his Christmas wish list every year. Santa never delivered.”
“Funny.” Zeke held the light aloft while Myra juggled Orion and retrieved the second lantern. “Speaking of Christmas...are you planning to spend the holiday with your folks?”
She straightened, shooting him a look. “No. The last few years I’ve stayed here with Gramps and mailed their gifts to them. Are you inviting someone to visit you so that you want me gone? A lady, perhaps?”
“Didn’t we have this discussion? My last girlfriend married someone else. I ask because Eric said your mom would love if you were home for the holiday. I thought if you’d be gone a week or two, I’d hire Eddie Four Bear to help feed our stock.”
“You don’t need help with that. Your money is better spent on chores you can’t do alone.”
Zeke donned his jacket and hat, picked up his lantern and walked out.
Myra shifted back to thinking he wasn’t ready to run a ranch. She would leave for a week if she thought it’d hasten him into reaching the same conclusion. But if he had the wherewithal to hire Eddie, she should probably give up. Except she’d committed to staying through spring, and going home would give her mom ample opportunity to guilt her back into teaching. Not that she wasn’t considering it. She’d updated her résumé but hadn’t sent it out. She listened to her heart, which still disputed Zeke calling the ranch his home. Yet as hard as it was
to accept, she needed to separate herself from the Flying Owl and find a teaching job.
* * *
ZEKE STEPPED OFF the enclosed porch and was hit with a blast of icy wind. It served him right for acting churlish in there. But dammit, he was doing everything he could to impress Myra. When it came to the ranch it seemed nothing he did was enough. Somewhere around the time of the potluck dance he’d stopped thinking about her leaving, but as yet he hadn’t had the nerve to bring it up. Really, he hadn’t fully figured out in his own mind how that would work—what it meant. At odd times it popped into his head that he could offer her a business partnership. At others, when they talked and laughed over meals, or went around the ranch, he imagined a totally different relationship. Often at night he pictured her sharing his bed. Yeah, he definitely needed to start showing her how he felt. See if she had any thoughts along those lines.
But what were those lines? he wondered as he shone the light over the generator. Love? Marriage? Kids? He wanted all of that in due time. Myra, though, was hard to read. What if she scoffed at his feelings? Or what if she just up and left? As independent as she was, why did she need him? Not to start this damned generator, apparently.
One good look at it and he saw that to supply electricity to a house this size it would have to be twice as big. He wondered why Myra’s grandfather had muddled along with something so ineffective.
If she hadn’t been joking about the man asking Santa for a new unit, then money must have been the issue. He hadn’t studied the spreadsheet since the first day she’d showed it to him, but if the ranch didn’t earn enough for upkeep, or for the owner to take a few days off, or hire help, why pour heart, soul and endless hours into the place? Anyone could see it was what Myra did.
He started the generator, happy to hear it chug to life without coughing or wheezing.
Returning to the house, Zeke had geared up to launch a serious talk with Myra, only to discover she’d fallen asleep with Orion in the recliner. Funny how sleep softened her. Unable to resist because they looked so cute, he got his camera and snapped a photo, then decided he may as well call it a night.
* * *
THE POWER OUTAGE lasted five days, causing undue hardship on some neighbors and businesses in town. Myra and Zeke split up many days, each dashing off to assist a neighbor. The dairy farmers were forced to milk cows by hand, as the electric milking machines required too much power for most generators.
The night the power was restored, Zeke volunteered to cook. For the whole week they’d cooked on a hibachi he’d set up on the porch.
“Ow,” Zeke yelped in the middle of rolling out the biscuit dough. “My fingers are cracked from milking so many darned cows.”
“Hey, you did it, though. You learned the rhythm. Something Eric never got the hang of.”
“Really? He must have never pulled goat duty in Afghanistan.”
“Did you keep goats on base?” Myra asked, looking up from threading electrical wire through one of her dollhouses as Zeke had shown her.
“At our more remote sites. Village elders tended to cooperate better if we passed around skins of warm goat’s milk first.”
“Some of the Afghan terrain I’ve seen in news clips reminds me of here. Empty, wild, yet beautiful.”
“It’s hard for me to compare the two.” Zeke slid the pan of biscuits into the oven then stirred the noodles he had boiling. “There, I was always looking over my shoulder for snipers or checking paths for mines.”
Myra spliced wire to a hanging lamp. “Do you think it’ll ever be safe?”
“There’s always hope. Hey, some little girl is going to be ecstatic with that dollhouse.”
Looking satisfied, Myra said, “I hope parents can afford the higher asking price for the lighted houses. Extra money will be welcome. We plan to request an appointment with the federal Natural Resource Committee in Washington so we can discuss the owls in person. We haven’t had any luck in three years of petitioning our state house for a snowy-owl refuge. Our group could buy land, but it wouldn’t be a recognized preserve. If we can’t post it as a refuge it’s pointless. And there’s a matter of yearly taxes we’d have to pay. We voted to set aside funds to send Jewell and Tawana to DC. So we’re all trying to earn more at this year’s bazaar.”
“It’s next weekend, right?” Zeke put the coffee scoop back in the can and turned on the maker. “Do you think I can do my Christmas shopping for my family there?”
Myra tried the dollhouse lights before setting aside her tools. “I heard you ask your mom the other day for gift suggestions. What does she want?”
“She said to save my money. Their beach condo is small.”
“Hmm. Maybe crafts made in snowbound rural Montana won’t go well in sunny Barbados.”
“And Seth’s in equally sunny Australia. Although he’s there temporarily. I can always buy him travel items.”
“You mentioned photographing the snowy owls for your mom. We don’t have professional photofinishing here, but you could ask Carl Meyer at the newspaper to print one of your shots to frame.”
“What a good idea. I’ll take my camera out tomorrow if it doesn’t snow.”
* * *
THE NEXT DAY after they finished feeding the stock, Zeke removed his gloves and tucked them in a back pocket. “If you can get by without me for a while, I’ll saddle Ember and ride into the foothills to see if I can scare up an owl to photograph.”
“Go ahead. I’m going in to put on a pot of chili for tonight. Then I’ll take a load of dollhouses into town while the weather is good. I talked to Lila last night. She said the grange hall is ready for crafters to start setting up.”
“Do you need me to help load and unload them?”
“I’ve always done it alone. I’ll take half of them today. Saturday of the sale, if you like, we can ride together and haul the other half. Driving one vehicle makes sense since parking is at a premium.”
“I know you’ve always done things by yourself. But I’m here and I want to help.”
Myra cast him a quick glance. “Are you accusing me of stepping on your toes?”
“No, but at first you readily explained everything. Lately, I have to see you tackling something and barge in to offer assistance.”
“I told you winter’s the time to catch up on small chores. You’ve insisted on painting and spiffing up the house in spite of the fumes, so if I see something that needs doing outside, I do it. Frankly, half the time I forget you’re here.”
“Well, thanks a heap. So glad you find me forgettable,” Zeke said testily.
Myra huffed out an exasperated growl and stomped toward the house.
Left to grumble alone, Zeke went into the barn and saddled Ember. Not only hadn’t he found a good time to bring up to Myra his earlier thoughts about their relationship, it seemed to him as winter dragged on and the holidays approached, she went out of her way to put more space between them.
It was hard to stay irritated riding through a cold, crisp day. Snow sparkled in areas touched by the sun. White peaks rose in the background. Lower down, evergreen trees stood out against the patchwork like lonely sentinels. But they reminded Zeke he felt lonely. Throughout his years in the army he’d almost never spent time alone. Myra thrived on solitude. She also didn’t like change—that was evident in her unhappiness over his sprucing up the ranch. Yet she embraced his suggestion of adding lights to her dollhouses. And after he’d seen how the Watsons had strung canvas between trees to shelter part of their stock, she’d seemed pleased when he’d done the same here with a little help from Joe and Mark.
Maybe he was misreading her. Perhaps she thought he should do more on his own.
He went over their earlier exchange. He could have worded his part of their back-and-forth better.
Just as he vowed to make more of an effort to show Myra he could be a real asset, he saw a trio of snowy owls skimming an open field. Reining in Ember, he lifted his camera. For ten minutes or more the birds flew betwe
en the field and a nest situated high in a tall pine. Two of the owls wore pink bands. Zeke couldn’t wait to tell Myra so she could relay the information to Jewell.
Before the birds flew farther afield, Zeke scrolled back through several of his photos. Excited to see how clear some of the shots were, he turned and rode home. Home. It had a good ring.
Myra’s pickup was gone. Zeke was disappointed until he recalled her plan to take a load of dollhouses to the grange hall. Then he decided if he hurried he might take advantage of her being in town. He didn’t know Carl from the newspaper, but if he could find Myra in Snowy Owl Crossing, she could introduce him. And help him pick out a nice frame for his mom. Unsaddling Ember, he returned the horse to his stall.
Damn—there he went relying on her again.
It wasn’t until he was under way that he hit on another idea. He knew Jewell well enough. So rather than track down Myra and expect her to tell her friend about the banded birds, Zeke could find the vet and tell her himself. Maybe if he showed her his photos, he could ask her help in meeting Carl and picking frames. Satisfied he’d solved two issues with one simple solution, he drove straight to Jewell’s clinic.
Chapter Ten
Myra backed her pickup close to the side door of the grange hall. She went inside to find help to unload her dollhouses. If she’d waited for Zeke to return from his ride as he’d suggested, he’d be here to help her. Instead, she’d been bent on proving she didn’t need assistance from anyone.
She didn’t know why she’d acted so snarkily to him. Actually, she did know. Day by day she felt her hold on the Flying Owl slipping away. Zeke took over more and more ranch chores. He had become a reliable part of the larger ranching community. She saw he wasn’t going to leave. Nor should he. He fit in.
Once the power had been restored, she had sent out résumés to principals she knew in Billings and Bozeman. She had scrolled through school websites in Great Falls, but they were her last choice. Great Falls and Helena were too big-city. She’d always considered herself a country girl. She was a country girl.
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