Dreamspinner Press Year Six Greatest Hits

by JD Ruskin

  “You’re doing really good. Caught on again really fast.”

  “Thanks, cowboy.”

  I didn’t like the nickname, but I bit my tongue. As we rounded the big curve that separated my and Jesse’s places from where my aunt and uncle lived, I stopped and became tour guide, pointing out the structures around us. The ranch was tucked into that space where the tilled, green fields of the valley meet the steady, forested slope that stretches up to the sharp rocky peaks of the Absarokas. The scene was like a picture postcard, and we used it in our advertising.

  “That’s the big house.” I pointed to the long, rambling, two-story log home. “It’s the original homestead from when my great-great-grandfather claimed the first couple hundred acres. Added onto, of course, once he decided to turn the place into a dude ranch. I’ll show you the great hall and dining room at lunch. The woodwork is really something.

  “We’ve turned some of the old family bedrooms into guest suites. My aunt and uncle live there, and it’s a place for guests to eat, relax, and hang out. There’s a nice library too.

  “To the right are corrals and the big horse barn. We keep about twenty-five horses, give or take, for guests and family. Beyond the horse barn, in the pines, are five guest cabins and the swim pond. And opposite the horse barn are the corrals and barns for the cattle and a bunkhouse for the hands. We have two full-time and add some in summer. Plus locals who help with the work at the big house during guest season.”

  “It all looks pretty from up here. You still running black Angus?”

  “How’d you know that?”

  Dane took a minute to answer, like he was embarrassed. “Your letters to your brother when we were in Afghanistan,” he said at last. “And your brother talked about it too.”

  “Jesse’s in charge of the cattle now, about two hundred fifty head. We’re a seed stock operation, breeding top of the line cows for ranchers who want to improve their herds.”

  Dane nodded.

  “Well, enough of that, I guess. Let’s head for the guest corral.”

  A Montana rancher doesn’t normally blurt out much of anything about his operation, but I wanted Dane to know enough to appreciate the ranch and maybe stay awhile.

  “What are you in charge of?”

  “The horses. I buy, breed, and train them. Run the trail rides and teach guests to ride. I teach some local people too, and train horses for folks around the valley.” It was my standard answer.

  “Why’d you choose the horse you were training yesterday?”

  “Because I didn’t want Ray Hanson to have him.”

  “And Ray Hanson is?”

  “A guy who thinks he’s the best horse trainer on earth.”

  “Competition?”

  “I don’t see it that way, but he does. I wish he didn’t.”

  Dane was quiet then, and kicked Sugarpie into a lope. Sugarpie and Hector were happy to speed up, and we reached the corral fast. Dang, Dane looked good on a horse.

  “And you and Jesse each have your own place?” he asked as we dismounted.

  “Yeah, he lives in the house our parents built, and I live in the cabin that was my grandmother’s after Grandpa died. A couple years back, I decided I… wanted some privacy from all Jesse’s girlfriends.”

  “He does have a way with the ladies. That run in the family, cowboy?”

  “Not so much,” I mumbled. Did he think I was straight?

  We left our mounts in the corral and entered the barn, where I gathered up the gear for brushing the horses the kids would ride and gave him some pointers. He nodded and went to work. It was clear he’d done it before, and I left him alone pretty quickly.

  I started my work at the other end of the building, working back toward him. When I returned, he was brushing Moonstruck, a pretty chestnut mare with a white crescent on her forehead. I stopped opposite him on her other side.

  “You’re doing great.”

  “I’ll bet you say that to all the guys you talk into this job,” Dane said. He didn’t look at me, just kept brushing Moonstruck’s side, his left arm resting on her back.

  Tentatively, I reached out and grazed his forearm. I wanted to brush it like he was brushing Moonstruck, to feel the muscles under his tanned skin, but I kept my hand still.

  I pretended I was studying the tattoo on his forearm. It was hard to miss: a grinning skull wearing sunglasses. “Rangers” was inscribed below it, and underneath that were two crossed daggers.

  “No, really, I’m serious.” I wished I could think up something better.

  He stopped brushing and straightened up. I moved my hand to Moonstruck’s back, trying to appear like it was casual.

  “I know you are, cowboy.”

  “You going to keep calling me that?”

  “I might.”

  “And if I told you I didn’t like it?”

  He laughed. “I’d call you cowboy all the time. You want to tell me something now, cowboy?” he challenged.

  “No.” My answer was too quick. When he raised an eyebrow at me, I knew he knew it too. He was quiet for a minute, but he never stopped grinning or looking at me. Then he changed the subject in a way that had me nearly squirming.

  “So when did you realize you loved… horses?”

  What the heck?

  I tried real hard to act like I hadn’t noticed his hesitation. I wanted too badly to read something into it. But I had to answer his question too, and soon. I went for a safe answer.

  “When I was real little. Dad sat me on a horse when I was two. I had my own pony when I was four. Pokey. I taught her a few tricks, and it just went from there.”

  “Tricks?”

  “Yeah, jumping small things, rearing on command, taking a couple steps with me standing on her back. Lone Ranger stuff.”

  “You were the Lone Ranger?”

  “Not really. Mainly, you know, I was trying to impress my parents and brother. Mom thought I was awesome. Jesse teased me something fierce. It was all typical stuff.” Boy, I sounded stupid.

  “More like special, I’m thinking.”

  He’s done this a hundred times. The thought popped aloud into my head like someone had spoken it. I was out of my league. I’d screwed around with a gang of gay friends in college, but suddenly I wasn’t sure what to do next. I wasn’t sure “next” was even a smart thing to do.

  “I suppose,” Dane said quietly, “we should finish this up and go get some lunch and our riders.”

  “Yeah.” I slid my hand down Moonstruck’s leg to check her feet, and blood pounded in my head. Both of them. My cock felt like it would never go soft again. I heard him gather up the brushes and move to the next stall.

  WHEN WE got to the big house, Aunt Kate and my best friend Sarah were serving lunch to the kids. A high school English teacher, Sarah ran our kids programs in summer.

  I introduced Dane, and Aunt Kate put us to work fetching pans of food for the late lunch seating, mainly the fly-fishing and hiking crowd. When we’d finished that, she sent us off to Uncle Karl.

  On the way, we stopped in the great hall so Dane could see the woodwork my great-great-grandfather had created. The room was forty by forty, with a bank of large windows on each of the two outside walls. Carved fluted columns and rosettes in contrasting woods framed each window, and the pattern was picked up on the facing interior walls. Larger rosettes were inlaid in the high, parquet ceiling. The floor matched that, but without the rosettes.

  Groups of Western furniture formed sitting areas around the room, and Western art and pictures of the ranch in older days hung on the interior walls.

  Dane approached one of the outside walls and ran his fingers softly along a fluted column. “This is really, really fine work.”

  “It’s been featured in a couple of magazines over the years. Come on, Uncle Karl’s office is this way.”

  I led him down a wide, carpeted hallway, past the playroom and the library to my uncle’s office.

  Uncle Karl sat at the huge desk
both his father and grandfather had used, a pile of papers in front of him and the oversized computer screen to his left running a spreadsheet program. His cowboy hat was tipped back on his well-lined forehead, and he was rubbing his eyes when we walked in.

  “Is that a good sign or bad?”

  He looked up and gave me his classic “glad to see you” smile. It lit up his whole face, clear to his eyes.

  He was a tall man, with just a tiny bit of a stomach on him and a head of thick, wavy brown hair now peppered with gray. He held a lot of authority with a loose hand, letting his born sense of fairness govern his decisions. But folks who knew him also knew not to cross him. His anger could match the force of a stampede, with none of the chaos.

  “Good. We’re doing real good, Josh.” He nodded at Dane and rose. “Who’s this?”

  I made introductions, and they shook hands. Dane was as tall as my uncle, and standing just as straight and confidently.

  “Proud to meet you. Jesse says you’re planning to stay awhile?”

  “If you can find me a place, sir.”

  “Son, even if we couldn’t, you’d be welcome as long as you want to stay. Jesse mentioned you plenty in his messages from Afghanistan and Iraq, and we owe you an unpayable debt. That means something to me.”

  Dane nodded, but didn’t move to brag or take advantage.

  “Jesse also says you’re good with tools?”

  “Yes, sir. Been building and repairing wooden structures and furniture most of my life.”

  “Well, we got plenty of those kind of jobs on a place this big,” Uncle Karl said. “We say good-bye to guests tomorrow morning, which means we have till Sunday afternoon to fix cabin problems. We’ve got a bad step on cabin one and a bad window sash on four. See what you can get done in that time, and then we’ll talk about the door on the calving barn. Maybe you can start on that on Monday.”

  Uncle Karl opened a drawer and put some files away, then looked up at Dane again.

  “You’ll get the same pay as the summer hands, paid each Friday, plus a room with Jesse. You can eat with the hands or with Jesse and Josh, or with the guests when Jesse or Josh do. That sound fair?”

  “Yes, sir, more than fair. Thank you.”

  “Glad to have you with us. You need anything, come see me, or ask Jesse or Josh. What you doing this afternoon?”

  “Dane volunteered to help Sarah and me with the trail ride.”

  “Good. You’re going to need it. You’ve got fourteen kids, mainly under twelve. And Steve Sanderson really wants to go with you. Can you manage that?”

  “We can now that Dane’s along. I was going to take Coyote Hill Trail.”

  He nodded. “Keep an eye on the sky. Make sure they all have rain gear, and be prepared to turn around if it looks threatening. Better to shorten the ride than get caught in a storm and deal with a bunch of worried parents.”

  “Yes, sir. Will do.”

  We headed back to the kitchen, where we wolfed down a quick lunch. Then Dane headed back to the barn, and I went into the dining room to touch base with Sarah.

  “We’re going over to the corral,” I told her, coming to stand behind where she was eating at a table filled with little kids. “You bring the crew out when you’re done, and we’ll be ready. We can take Steve with no problem. You’ll lead. Dane will take the middle, and I’ll bring up the rear. Oh, and tell all the kids to bring raincoats.”

  She nodded, then turned and leaned into me. “Brittany’s coming,” she whispered. I nodded and headed outside.

  Crap. That girl was sixteen going on thirty-five and boy crazy—with me getting all the attention. She’d been too close around me all week. Always touching my arm, asking me to help her mount up, offering to help me in the barn. She’d been like that last summer too. But she’d be leaving tomorrow, I reminded myself.

  “Who’s Steve Sanderson?” Dane asked when I got back to the barn.

  “A great kid. Fourteen. He has cerebral palsy, and he’s in a wheelchair. His arms don’t work the best either, and he can’t always speak clearly, but you can understand him if you listen. He’s been coming here with his family for four years because we’ll take him riding. Other places won’t, I guess.”

  I took down a couple of the saddles we’d be using. “If you’ll help me get him up in front of Sarah on her horse, I think we can manage with no problems.”

  “Probably be better if he rode in front of me,” Dane offered.

  “You okay with that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We’d barely finished checking saddles when the kids swarmed out of the big house. Sarah pushed Steve’s wheelchair in front, leading like she was the Pied Piper. I did a quick scan for raincoats. Things seemed okay.

  “Get ready for three hours of noise and chaos.” I gave a loud whistle, and the kids quieted down. “Everybody, this is Dane.”

  “Hey, Dane,” came the reply.

  Then one of the little guys asked, “Where’s your cowboy boots and hat, Dane?”

  Dane looked down at his combat boots, then at the boy who had asked the question.

  “What’s your name?” he asked his inquisitor.

  “I’m Jake,” the towhead responded, pushing his cowboy hat back a bit on his head and sliding his wire-framed glasses up his nose. The top of Jake’s hat barely reached Dane’s belt buckle.

  “Well, Jake,” Dane answered, squatting down to the boy’s size, “I’ve got a baseball cap in my pack. I guess I should put it on, hmm?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jake said, sounding very serious. “You don’t want to get sunburned. Moms get mad at you.”

  “They do, don’t they?” Dane said. “These are my special boots. I’ve worn them everywhere, and they’ve kept me out of trouble. But I suppose I will need cowboy boots one of these days, huh?”

  “You should get them,” Jake answered, as sure of himself as he could be. If I remembered right, he was from Chicago, and he was proudly wearing his very first pair of cowboy boots.

  “You remember what I told you about cowboy hats, Jake?”

  “Yes, Josh. ‘Tie ’em tight under your chin. It’s bad for a cowboy to have to chase his hat across the field.’ And it’s windy today, isn’t it, Josh?”

  “Sure is, Jake….” I waited a beat, and half the kids joined us in the next line. “It’s always windy in Paradise Valley.”

  Dane crooked an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged. He’d find out soon enough.

  Dane turned back to Jake. “So, pardner, would you like a little boost to get on your horse?”

  I pointed Dane toward one of the smaller horses, and Dane, Sarah, and I began helping kids mount. I could hear Brittany telling Sarah that I’d help her, and I gritted my teeth. It’s not that she was heavy. She was cute, blond, curvy, and used to getting her way. Then I spotted Steve waiting patiently in his wheelchair, and I let the frustration go.

  I helped Brittany up—she made sure it took two tries—and handed her the reins as she gushed her thanks and touched my arm.

  “You bet, Brittany.”

  Then I turned to Steve and rolled his wheelchair up to Sugarpie. “Hey, Steve, we’re going to put you in front of Dane on Sugarpie today, okay?”

  “Dane,” Steve repeated. “Sugarpie.”

  “That’s right,” Dane said as he held out his hand to shake Steve’s. Steve waved his arm wildly, trying to line it up with Dane’s. Dane smoothly grabbed his hand and shook it.

  “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

  “Dane,” Steve repeated.

  Dane put Steve’s raincoat in his pack, then mounted.

  “Josh, you and Sarah move the wheelchair so the back is parallel with Sugarpie. Then just lift Steve to standing, and I’ll do the rest,” he instructed.

  We did as directed. I was trying to figure how we’d lift Steve when Dane just reached down, grasped him gently under the arms, and dead-lifted him onto the saddle. With another smooth move, he lifted Steve’s leg over the saddle, and the two of them were re
ady to go.

  “Yeah!” Steve exulted, turning his head so he could look in Dane’s direction.

  “You liked that, huh?” Dane asked. Looking down at Steve, he smiled a smile that reached his eyes. For a second, I was jealous.

  I pushed the chair into the barn and whistled at Hector. He lined himself up about ten feet in front of me. I took four running steps and vaulted onto his back. The kids cheered.

  “Yeah, Josh!” Steve yelled.

  I grinned and looked at Dane. He had the nerve to roll his eyes.

  “All right, cowboys and cowgirls,” I said, waving my hat. “You all follow Sarah now. Dane, you and Steve fall in the middle, and I’ll take the rear. Let’s get riding!”

  Brittany ended up right in front of me, of course, and made a point of wiggling her butt in the saddle off and on. Her pants sat low, her shirt was cropped, and I could see her butterfly tattoo above her thong. Sometimes I did feel sorry for her, going to all that work and thinking I was interested.

  As soon as we cleared the barns and corrals, the trail began to climb the open hillside. As we moved along, Sarah pointed out the flowers and trees, and the kids repeated the names to each other until the words made their way back to me.

  Sarah was great with kids, maybe because she was so short. Or maybe the kids immediately sensed the understanding and acceptance she offered everyone. She never panicked either. I was always glad when she could help me on the rides.

  Soon enough, we were into the pine woods and maneuvering the switchbacks that would get us over the ridge. From there, we’d cross a creek and drop down into a pretty meadow.

  Sarah led at a good pace. Whenever we made a turn, I’d check how all the kids were sitting. All along the way, I could see Dane listening to whatever Steve said and occasionally making a comment himself. I’d have liked to hear the two of them, but I was stuck talking to Brittany.

  “I wish I could just stay here, Josh.”

  “I think you’d get bored here, Brittany. The nearest mall is ninety minutes away. The nearest theater is in Livingston, and it shows only two movies at a time. And the Internet is slow. You wouldn’t have much to do.”