Flight for Life

by Stephy Smith

  Wide-eyed faces showed through the crowd, and the women shook their heads as they realized they still had onion juice on them from the fake wake. Handerchiefs flew through the air toward a washtub.

  Joseph appeared at her side and slipped his arm around her waist. “It’s time for our wedding dance, my love.” He led her to the gazebo.

  Her gaze never left her husband. She let him guide her around the dance floor. The soft music played as the couple swayed to the rhythm. Bright stars sparkled against the backdrop of a full moon. Zaidee glanced down at the tugs on her dress.

  Hannah took her stance on Joseph’s feet. He reached down and lifted Emma into his arms. The three held onto the handsome man as he glided them around the dance floor.

  Soon the girls could barely hold their eyes open. Joseph handed Emma to Zaidee. Then he lifted Hannah in his arms. Walking beside each other, the couple carried the girls to their room and put them to bed.

  ****

  As she’d done every night since the wedding, Zaidee stood on the gallery beside Joseph. A peace fell over the plantation. Birds twittered and soared overhead in the last dim light of evening.

  “Are you ready to go inside, my love?” Joseph pulled her close to him.

  “Is it always going to be this calm? This peaceful?” She raised her face to him.

  “I hope not. Our children will need to grow and cause their own mischief. I think we’ll cherish days like today even more so than Ma and Pa do.”

  Joseph tugged at Zaidee’s slender waist. With him guiding, they entered the bedroom they would share for the rest of their lives. He closed the door behind them.

  About the Author

  Stephy Smith grew up in the Northwest Texas Panhandle and still lives within a few miles of her childhood home. She owns her own ranch and takes care of her mother. She shares her home with three dogs and a chinchilla. Other than writing, she loves to read, garden, ride horses, paint and do just about any kind of arts and crafts. Her love for history, museum’s, historical markers and sites along roadsides, old houses and walking through cemeteries tempts her creative imagination. Where there’s history there’s mystery and ghost! She writes young adult, sweet historical romance and contemporary western romance. You can find her novellas, Lizzie and the Rebel, Rescued from the River, Shawnee’s Creek, Sanders Cross, Gentry’s Gallery of Angels, The Long Moon, and Swim the River at Astraea Press, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon.

  Also by Stephy Smith

  Chapter One

  It was Moon who ordered him to bring the two-year-old colt in from the pasture. Moon was the man who climbed on its back. Sixty-four year old Leroy Moon held tight to the saddle when the colt broke in an outrage. Carson gasped at each jump. The air whooshed from the old man’s lungs when the colt returned to the hardened earth. His head jerked back and forth before Moon flew through the air and landed on his side breaking a hip, an arm and acquiring a gash in his head.

  Carson Long couldn’t control the pounding of his heart as it beat to the rhythm of thundering drums. He knelt down, and his shaky hand reached to feel for a pulse. With his thumb, he dialed emergency from his cell phone. His voice quivered as he talked to the dispatcher on the other end, he then flipped the phone shut and turned to Moon.

  “You know this is the end of ranching for me, don’t you? Get out your checkbook and write me a check for my part of the ranch.” Moon’s voice trickled from his lips. His face distorted with undeniable pain.

  “Your daughter’s are going to be awful mad.” Carson pulled his checkbook from his back pocket.

  “Let ‘em be mad. I want you to have my part.” Moon’s gruff voice insisted.

  An evil twist wrenched against Carson’s rib cage. He hoped the old man would make it, at least until someone with experience in these matters showed up to help. Moon’s daughters would throw fits from here to forever when they heard what had happened, and for once, he wouldn’t blame them. If the old man would’ve let him get the colt used to something on its back before Moon climbed on, they wouldn’t be in this predicament, but no, the stubborn old man wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Yes sir.” Carson examined the scrunching face of his boss. He realized being thrown from a horse at his age would hurt like the dickens. He marveled at the spunk of the old man for a minute, and then questioned his own sanity for letting him get on the wild steed in the first place. He wrote the check and pushed the pen back in his shirt pocket.

  “Try and buy the girls out, if you can. I want someone who appreciates all of my hard work to have it.” Carson listened to the broken words, rocked back on his heels and stood for a few seconds then lowered himself again. He wasn’t much for taking pain, even if it wasn’t his own.

  “Yes sir, I’ll try.” Carson lifted his eyes to the clear road with silent prayers for someone to come help Moon. He tugged on the bandana around his neck, doused it with cool water from a canteen and pressed it to the gash on Moon’s head. Moon winced and swatted at the pressure.

  “Make me one last promise before they haul my hide outta here?” Moon’s wrinkled hand clinched his wrist.

  “Sure.” He prayed it wasn’t to stick him back on the colt.

  “Ride down by the river and make sure we brought all the cows and calves home. You know how the girls are. They would have our hides in a sling if they thought we cheated them out of a dime.”

  “Yes sir, will do.” Carson glanced toward the river and sneered. However much he hated going down there, he would do it to set the old man’s mind at ease. He didn’t want to be reminded of his heartache concerning a river.

  The vision of River Moon, the old man’s youngest daughter, drifted to his mind. The overbearing vixen had haunted him day and night over the years. After her last tirade with him, he vowed never to go near her again, nor have anything to do with a river, period.

  The old man coughed. “Back forty years now, I married and brought my wife to this place. She didn’t know a thing about livin’ in the country. At first, it was new and excitin’. Then she needed somethin’ more.”

  Carson gazed at pain riddled gray eyes. Moon’s breath sounded raspy. He wondered if the old man had enough strength to continue breathing.

  Where is the ambulance? Carson patted Moon’s arm. Come on people, the old man is dying here. Get a move on. Anger boiled at the slow response time. It had been at least two minutes since he called. He could have loaded the man up and had him halfway to the hospital by now.

  “One day she went to town. One of the neighbors had made some prickly pear jam. My Sadie thought it was a gift from above. She went to every store in town lookin’ for prickly pear seeds.” Moon’s slight chuckle fell low before another cough.

  Carson licked his lips. The essence of the best prickly pear jam in the Panhandle always greeted visitors who entered Grandma Dessie Moon’s house. Next time he talked to Gabe he would order a case of the ‘melt in your mouth’ sweet treat. River took after her grandmother in the cooking department. There was no way he could order the delicious jam from her. He wished she would leave his mind and let him concentrate on the problem at hand. The distant voice brought him back to the here and now.

  “One of the clerks told her to go to the pasture to find the prickly pears; they were all over the country side. While she was there, Gladys King came in with some plum trees. She told Sadie to plant them down by the river, and make jam from the plums. Told Sadie they were just as good as the prickly pear jam if they were put up right.” Moon’s eyes closed, and he fought to catch his breath.

  Carson glanced at the road again, still nothing. He scanned the pastures to see the large prickly pears growing wild across the pasture, and shook his head. Mrs. Moon had passed on when he was in high school. River took it hard and let the death dictate her attitude. Mrs. Moon was a sweetheart up until the cancer took over. Some days the woman was as mean as a snake; other days she was the nice, mellow Mrs. Moon they all knew and loved.

  There were several pictures of the family
scattered around the house. Sadie Moon was a looker back in her day. From the stories he heard, Moon was a lucky man to have won her affections. Of the three girls, River was the one who favored her mother the most.

  “My Sadie came home with them twigs, and set out to plant them down yonder by the river. I taught her how to ride a horse that day. Shucks, I didn’t want her walkin’. She could’ve got snake bit. Anyway, she took them plants and made them grow. She had a green thumb on her to make any farmer jealous. Every day she would go down to the thicket. One day I followed her down there. I left my horse on the trail and hid behind that lone rock.” A shine in the old gray eyes appeared and the creases at the corners deepened.

  Carson nodded and glanced up at the road again. Still no one came. Moon’s cracked voice fell on his ear. He hoped the man’s lung wasn’t punctured. The old man never said a word about how bad he hurt. Carson figured he was telling this story to keep the pain from taking over.

  “I watched that woman of mine strip clear down to nothing and start singing and dancing around the thicket as she carried buckets of water and poured them on the plants. Well, I couldn’t let her know I was spyin’ on her. I made my way back to my horse and let me tell you— things got a little heated that night behind closed doors. I thought about Sadie all day.” Another chuckle and a cough came from Moon.

  Carson refused to let that vision enter his mind. He inadvertently placed him and River in the situation. Although, the closest he had come to seeing River in the nude was when she wore her bikini at a swimming party. He was almost certain the old man didn’t know his youngest daughter ever wore anything that skimpy.

  Moon wasn’t spitting up blood or anything. Carson was relieved, but it didn’t help matters. He had a hard time plastering a fake smile on his face as the old man talked. He sure didn’t want to hear about or visualize the old man in a heated night of passion. A blush climbed his cheeks.

  “After that I would sneak down to the rock and watch Sadie when I could. This went on for years before my wife figured out what was going on. When Sadie found out she was expectin’ for the last time, why she named River afore she was born.” His eyes closed and he was silent. “I know you think I’m a senile old man, but I have a reason for tellin’ ya this story.”

  He eyed Mr. Moon a few seconds and asked, “What’s the reason?”

  “One day this whole ranch is gonna belong to you and River. You may as well face it, son. You got it bad fer her, and she does fer you too. I was ten years older than my Sadie. We had our problems. There ain’t anything y’all can’t work out if you set your minds to it. My little girl’s heart is torn and twisted in so many directions she don’t know which way’s heads up. You’re gonna have to lead her to greener pastures. Give her another chance; you might be surprised.”

  Carson remained wrapped up with his own version of the story. He tried to shake the memory from his mind, yet apprehension blocked his ability to do so. The words slammed into his inner core. Why should he risk his heart to give her another chance? The old man clearly didn’t know what he was asking. She had already ripped his heart out and tossed it into a grinder. How much more was he supposed to take? A hand touched him on the shoulder. When he jumped, he lost his footing. A loud rush of air escaped his lungs as he landed on his backside. Shadows cast on the ground brought full awareness of the paramedics nearby.

  “You scared the fire out of me. I was listening to the old man’s story.” His voice shook and another round of pink covered his cheeks, “Then his eyes closed, and I thought he was— I thought he was a goner for sure.”

  “There ain’t no sense talkin’ about me like I’m already gone, Carson. It’ll take more than a colt to take me out of this world.” Moon peered up through slotted eyes.

  Carson stood back and gazed as the medical team prepared Moon for the ambulance ride into town. The pummel against his ribs grew stronger as he stared in disbelief at the swiftness of the responders. They loaded Moon into the back of the ambulance, flipped on the lights and sirens, then blared down the dirt road.

  He flipped open the cell phone and dialed the oldest and most talkative daughter. She all but accused him of neglecting his duties at the ranch. If he was doing what he was supposed to, the old man would be sitting in front of the television, taking a nap by now instead of making a fast run to the hospital lying flat on his back.

  Moon’s two older daughters wouldn’t back down. They would’ve had the old man in the nursing home as soon as their mother died if he hadn’t agreed to keep Moon out of the pasture and off the horses. They dang near killed the man taking his livelihood away from him. River kept her mouth clamped when it came to making family decisions. Carol and Lydia were fifteen years older than she was and always disregarded River when she spoke against them. With resistance, the women accepted being out-voted by their father, River and Carson.

  There was one thing Carson couldn’t do, and that was to let Moon rot away in front of the television watching game shows or soap operas all day. They were good for each other, taking the loneliness and trouble neither one expressed and making life bearable. He stayed with the man until they transferred him from the hospital into private care.

  Moon sent the girls from the room and asked Carson to stay. He instructed him to take the check and have the deed transferred into his name before the girls could stop the transaction. He had set up the transfer a few years ago with his lawyer. It was a done deal no matter how hard the girls would fight him over it.

  A few days later, he got the news he expected from the sisters. The two older girls had put up their part of the ranch for sale. It didn’t surprise him, and he didn’t blame the women. He would do things differently, but they didn’t ask his opinion. He planned to bring the man home when he was well enough to leave his caregivers. With the move, Carson tried to visit, and was turned away for one reason or another most of the time, Moon was in some kind of therapy. There was no choice left except to return to the ranch and wait for the confrontation.

  High up on the mesa, Carson sneered as the last load of old man Moon’s belongings were in the truck and headed down the long dusty road. The black gelding stood a few feet away grazing on green grass. Carson was a little more than perturbed at old man Moon’s children. Why in Sam hill would they want to put the old man in private care? Why didn’t River stop them? She knew how much he cared for their father. Then she let them take part of the ranch. His clenched fist rested on his hips.

  “No ladies, I never intended to use Mr. Moon’s belongings. I would’ve locked them in the bunkhouse. Now you’re out a monthly payment to the storage unit!” he glared at the back of the moving trucks and gave a haughty laugh.

  Worse yet, they refused to sell their part to him. Their excuse, he would hire Moon and they just couldn’t afford to have daddy in the hospital all the time. He gave it a long thought. If there was a way, he would do just that. Except the way he was thinking didn’t set well with him. It would require him talking River into buying out the other two girls, then selling their share to him.

  The way Carson viewed it he had been hired by Moon. He rode for the Moon brand and not the Moon kids. Moon signed his checks, and you always do as the boss tells you. In their professional worlds, the daughters of the old man did as their bosses instructed. River expected her employees to abide by her rules. He shook his head in wonderment of their reasoning of him following his boss’ orders.

  As the last bit of the dust settled from the moving van, he sauntered back to the gelding, placed his foot in the stirrup and headed down to the river as he promised. Listening to the story of how River acquired her name only made the dreaded chore worse. He didn’t want to think about anything that may have transpired from the rides to the river — or later, for that matter.

  He glanced at the plum thicket and gave a short laugh. He tried to picture Moon without gray hair and a wrinkled weathered face. The picture, which formed instead, was River’s scantily clad body, as it popped in for
another visit. With a shake of his head, he scoured the land for stray cattle. His eyes lingered on the two beat up metal buckets caught in the branches. The deed showed this was his part of the ranch, along with the house, barn, and bunkhouse.

  The river was no more than a shallow creek flowing softly across the rocks in its bed. A nudge of his knees sent the horse in a forward motion. He had seen enough without using up precious memory space reliving the last story the old man told him.

  How could Moon’s daughters dismiss the ranch so easily? This place was peaceful, quiet and beautiful. Their father had carved out this place with his wife to raise his children. There was no hustle and bustle of big city life. For years, the two oldest daughters nagged Moon to sell the ranch, but the old man refused to budge.

  Carson rode his horse up the narrow trail. On the hilltop over-looking the sage, bear grass and native grass housed nothing except the wildlife. Down by the river the plum thicket grew heavy with plums. He grabbed his saddlebags and dismounted. It didn’t take long for him to make the short jaunt to the stand of sand plums. He filled the bags full of the plums. The thicket seemed out of place. It was full of life, while the large ranch house on the other side of the hill appeared lonely and dead.

  The closer to the river he got, the better he could listen to the soft gurgle. It was as if it were singing its last lament to Mr. Moon. Every time he came to this part of the ranch, he was reminded of River. How she could hold on to his heart, and rip it apart day after day, he didn’t know, but she refused to leave him with a moment’s peace. He managed to avoid her when he saw her coming to visit her dad.

  His arms ached for the feel of her tight against his chest. He yearned to smell the sweet flowery or fruity scent of her hair. The anticipation of which one it would be the next morning when he greeted her at school always surprised him. To hear her feather-light laughter close to his ear brought happiness to his heart. The taste of her minty fresh breath tempted his tongue. Those days were lost forever, all in a fit of rage where they both lost control and said things they shouldn’t have.