A Family For Rose

by Nadia Nichols

  “Been thinkin’,” Billy said after he’d poured himself a steaming mugful. He stood at the kitchen door and looked out across the valley, watching as long fingers of golden sunlight stretched across the land. “Maybe we could fix up that old windmill, the one that used to pump water to your upper pasture. Might make the grass grow better. We’ll need a lot of hay to winter the stock we buy this fall.” McTavish said nothing in reply, just pulled on his jacket. Billy took a swallow of coffee. “I got the plug wires installed and the tractor’s ready to go whenever you are.”

  “Don’t know what difference any of it’ll make in the long run,” McTavish said.

  Billy set his mug in the sink.

  “We’ll find out,” he said. “Let’s make us some hay.”

  * * *

  SHANNON SLEPT SOUNDLY and awoke with a start, surprised that the day was already in full swing. She glanced at her watch but didn’t need to. She could still measure the morning hours of ranch life by the sounds and smells and the sunlight. It was 8:00 a.m., the day half gone.

  “Rose, honey, it’s time to get up.” She nudged the small bundle curled beside her in the bed, smoothed her palm over the warm curve of her daughter’s cheek. Rose made a soft mewling and burrowed deeper beneath the quilt, never quite awakening.

  Shannon tucked the quilt around Rose and left the warmth of the bed, moving to the window. The air still held the cool of the night but was rapidly warming. She could hear the distant guttural growl of a tractor.

  Her bedroom window overlooked the barns, the molten shine of the creek, the roof of the cook’s cabin and the old bunkhouse. The lower fields were out of sight, on the other side of the creek, but she suspected the sound came from there. If Billy was helping her father, there really wasn’t much she could do in the fields until the hay was baled tomorrow. Today she’d go to Willard’s, buy some decent groceries and cook them a decent meal.

  She could wash the windows and cut down the weeds growing around the sides of the house. She could sweep off the porch and pick up the trash. Brush the burrs out of Sparky’s and Old Joe’s manes and tails. Take Rose for a ride. There was no end of chores to keep her busy, and certainly no excuse for her to be lying abed when so much needed doing.

  She showered in the small, drab bathroom with the peeling wallpaper and wiped the steam from the mirror afterward, staring at the thin face with the blackened left eye.

  The swelling was almost gone and the colors around her eye had morphed, gradually, from dark purple to a mottled greenish yellow. Makeup helped to hide the bruises, but there was no forgetting, especially when she looked in the mirror, how awful the last few years of her life had been. Travis’s last visit had come after the divorce was finalized, and he’d left her lying on the foyer floor. The very next day she’d filed for a restraining order, packed her things and left with Rose.

  Shannon dried and brushed her hair, dressed swiftly in jeans, a T-shirt and a fleece sweatshirt, and carried her shoes down the kitchen stairs. The coffeepot on the gas stove was still warm. She poured herself a cup and carried it out onto the porch. Tess was sleeping at the top of the porch steps, letting the morning sun warm her old bones.

  Shannon sat beside Tess, drinking her coffee and letting the sun warm her bones, too, while she gently stroked the old dog. Yesterday she’d wondered if it had been a mistake to come back. Today she felt a little better about things. She had no idea how long she and Rose would stay, but right now she wasn’t going to worry about the future. She was going to fix breakfast for her little girl and then go to town and get some groceries.

  There was hay to make...and she had her own fences to mend.

  * * *

  THEY QUIT AT NOON, not because they wanted to, but because the cutter bar broke. The field was almost finished when the bolt sheared off. McTavish had gone back to the barn to get more gas when it happened. Billy heard the sudden disjointed clatter and disengaged the cutter bar. Diagnosing the problem was easy. The fix would be, too, as soon as he picked up a new bolt, but that meant another trip to town if he couldn’t find a replacement in the tractor shed.

  By the time he’d removed the sheared-off bolt, McTavish had returned with the gas. He climbed out of the cab, slammed the door of the truck, lifted the gas can from the back and turned to face Billy.

  “Shannon’s gone,” he said bluntly. “Took Rose and left. No note, nothing. I knew she wouldn’t be able to settle for this place.”

  Billy shook his head. “She’d have told you if she was leaving.”

  McTavish took his hat off and whipped it against his pant leg. His eyes narrowed as he looked across the vast expanse of newly cut grass. “Didn’t make a damn bit of difference, this morning’s work.”

  Billy didn’t know what to say. The wind had picked up and the sweet smell of fresh-cut hay filled the air. It had been a good start to a good day, but suddenly the sky didn’t look quite so blue. “We need a new bolt for the cutter bar,” he said, holding up the shorn piece.

  McTavish was still gazing across the big hay field. “I never could talk to her.” He shook his head. “Never could.”

  “There might be a spare bolt up in the tractor shed,” Billy said.

  McTavish didn’t respond. Just stood there, holding the gas can and staring off into the distance. Billy started walking back toward the ranch. He was about to duck inside the tractor shed when he heard a vehicle coming down the road. A rooster tail of dust plumed behind the dark-colored Mercedes as it emerged at the bottom of the steep grade and headed toward the ranch, pulling to a stop up by the house.

  Shannon was in the process of unloading boxes from the car when Billy reached her. She stopped at the bottom of the porch steps with a box in her arms and gave him a wide open smile. It was so beautiful and unexpected that he stopped and struggled to catch his breath while his heart did backflips.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Good morning,” she said. “Rose and I went to town and picked up some real food, or as real as food gets at Willard’s. I’ll fix some sandwiches, so’s you and Daddy can eat quick and get at it again. Rose, honey, Tess’ll live without you for a few more minutes. Can you come here and give your momma a hand with these groceries?”

  The little girl jumped up from where she’d been crouched beside Tess on the shaded porch and raced to her mother’s side even as Billy closed the distance between them.

  “Here,” he said. “Better let me take that one, that looks heavy.” He lifted the big cardboard box from Shannon’s arms.

  “Thanks. I picked up enough to get us through the haying. No more canned beans and franks with stale bread, thank you very much. My mother was a good cook and she taught me a few things.”

  “Your father came back to get some gas for the tractor, saw your car was gone and figured you’d left for good.”

  Shannon was gathering another box of groceries into her arms. She glanced up with an exasperated expression. “I pinned a note beside the screen door. The wind must’ve blown it off. If he’d checked my room he’d have seen my things. He was probably happy to think I’d left so soon.”

  Billy climbed the steps one at a time, slowly, but he climbed them, carrying the heavy box of groceries. He set the box on the table and she set hers right beside it. Rose added the five-pound bag of russets she’d lugged up.

  “He’s hoping you stick around.”

  “Be nice if he showed it.” Shannon turned away to unpack the box she’d carried up from the car. “Thank you, Rose,” she said. “Why don’t you bring that bowl of water out for Tess, in case she’s thirsty.”

  When Rose had left the kitchen, carefully balancing the water bowl, Shannon continued unpacking. “I’ll get the last box,” Billy said, and descended the porch steps, wondering how Shannon and her father had ever drifted so far apart. Shannon was organizing the groceries as he reentered. Her expression had become in
troverted. Thoughtful.

  “Tuna sandwiches okay?” she asked.

  Billy nodded. “Sounds great. I came back to find another bolt for the cutter bar. I’ll go look for one in the shed, then get your father. He’s still out with the tractor.”

  The wall phone rang as he was heading for the kitchen door and Shannon set the cans of tuna on the counter and reached for it. “McTavish Ranch, Shannon speaking,” she said, and then Billy watched as her expression changed and her entire body went rigid. She listened in silence for a few moments before interrupting.

  “Don’t you dare come here, you hear me?” Her voice was low, taut with emotion. “I’ll have you arrested if you violate that restraining order. I mean it. You stay away from me, and you stay away from Rose.” She hung up without waiting for a reply. Her face was pale, and when she raised a hand to smooth the hair off her forehead, the tremble was noticeable. She cast a quick glance out the kitchen door to where Rose crouched beside the old dog, coaxing her to drink, then drew a shaky breath and crossed her arms around herself. “I’ll have lunch ready by the time you get back.”

  Billy paused with one hand on the doorknob. “Your father told me about your divorce.”

  “I bet he did,” she said bitterly.

  “You’re safe here, Shannon,” he said, ignoring her reaction. “If Travis Roy is stupid enough to show up, there won’t be much left for the sheriff to arrest.”

  * * *

  AFTER THE PHONE call from Travis, Shannon could barely focus on the simple task of making a stack of sandwiches and heating a pot of soup. She told herself that Travis wouldn’t come here, he wouldn’t dare, but he still had family in Lander. Lander was a ways from their valley, but it was still too close as far as Shannon was concerned. He’d said he just wanted to talk to her, to see Rose. Said he had something for her and swore he’d quit the drinking and the drugs, but he’d made every promise in the book these past few years and broken them all, over and over again. She was through believing his lies and living in fear. The divorce was final. She was done with him. The only thing left for the courts to decide was the custody of Rose, and she was confident she’d win that battle.

  She stirred the soup as it came to a simmer, cut the sandwiches and put them on a platter. Poured some tortilla chips into a bowl and put that on the table along with a pitcher of milk and four glasses. Finding four soup bowls proved a challenge, but she came up with three mismatched bowls and washed out the bowl she’d mixed the tuna in, filled an old mixing bowl with the fruit she’d bought, and put that on the table as well, dead center.

  The screen door squeaked open, banged shut and Rose burst into the kitchen. “Momma, can we go riding now?”

  “No, honey, it’s lunchtime. Go get washed up.”

  “Can we go riding after?”

  “Maybe.”

  Rose studied her for a moment, her expression becoming fearful. “Did Daddy find us?”

  Shannon felt her heart wrench. She was still too emotionally raw to hide the effects of Travis’s phone call from her daughter. “Go wash up, Rose. It’s all right, we’re safe here.”

  “Are we going to stay with Grampy forever?”

  “For now. I don’t know about forever. Nobody does. Go wash up.”

  After Rose had gone upstairs she heard boots climbing the porch steps and moved to the door. Billy had returned, alone.

  “Your father’s truck was gone when I got back to the tractor,” Billy explained as he came into the kitchen. “I went ahead and fixed the cutter bar on the mower. I’ll finish that field after lunch and start on the second. Ought to be able to turn the hay once before dark.” He hung his hat on a peg by the door and eyed the table. “That looks mighty good.”

  “It’s just a stack of sandwiches,” Shannon said.

  “You haven’t seen the chow we normally eat around here.”

  “Oh, I got a pretty good taste of it last night,” Shannon said, ladling out the soup while Billy washed at the sink. She filled three bowls and set the remainder on the stove for when her father got home.

  “You probably got used to eating pretty fancy while you were living in Nashville,” Billy commented, dropping into the same chair he’d used at supper the night before. Rose thundered down the stairs and claimed her own seat, eying the food expectantly.

  “We were pretty spoiled,” Shannon admitted as she joined them at the table, passing the platter of sandwiches. “Rose especially loved our cook, didn’t you, Rose?”

  Rose shook her head vehemently and made a face. “She made me eat yucky things.”

  Shannon laughed. “Rose doesn’t like fancy food.”

  “Neither do I,” Billy confided to Rose. “Give me plain and simple any day.”

  “Plain and simple’s all they shell out at Willard’s, so the both of you should be very happy,” Shannon said. “Napkin in your lap, Rose.”

  “It’s not a napkin, it’s a paper towel, Momma.”

  “Pretend it’s fine linen and remember your manners, young lady.”

  Rose heaved an exaggerated sigh as she put the paper towel in her lap. “Are you always going to have a plate in your head?” she asked Billy.

  “Rose!” Shannon chastised her.

  “Yup,” Billy said. “The docs told me the plate was permanent. I asked if they could throw in a fork, knife and spoon but they couldn’t fit ’em in there.”

  Rose giggled until Shannon caught her eye. “How long were you in the military, Billy?”

  “Eight years. After four tours of duty I thought my life was pretty much over when I was wounded. That little piece of land and the house I’m building beside the Bear Paw is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I owe a lot to your father for making that possible.”

  Shannon felt a twinge of resentment. It was noble of Billy to have served his country, and terrible that he’d been so horribly wounded in action, but he’d stolen her dream. That was her little house he was building in her special spot. Billy and her father had stolen her dream and it was hard not to resent them both for slamming the door on the future she’d planned for herself and Rose here at the ranch.

  Billy wolfed down two sandwiches and dispatched his soup with equal enthusiasm. Rose matched him, mouthful for mouthful. For a six-year-old, she ate like a horse. Shannon took a bite of her sandwich and played with her soup. The phone call from Travis had effectively destroyed any appetite she might have had, and she was brooding about her future. Where was she going to raise her daughter if there was no place for her here?

  “Not hungry?” Billy said, already finished.

  “I ate a big breakfast,” Shannon lied. “Wonder where my father’s at.”

  Billy shook his head. “We talked about fixing the windmill. Maybe he decided to make a start on it. He lost all interest in haying when he thought you’d left.”

  Shannon shook her head with a frustrated sigh. “Soon as I get all the groceries put away, I’ll pack him a lunch and walk up there.”

  “But you said we could go riding,” Rose protested.

  “We will, after we make sure your grampy’s fed.”

  Billy pushed away from the table and reached for his hat. “I’ll get back to haying. Thanks for lunch.” He paused with his hand on the door. “Cell phones don’t work all the time out here, Shannon. If anyone unwelcome should show up, call the police on the landline right away, then call my cell. The number’s written on the wall beside the phone.”

  Shannon felt an unexpected twinge of gratitude. “Thanks, Billy, but we’ll be okay.”

  He held her gaze a moment longer, then turned and went out the screen door with a squeak and a bang. She watched him walk down toward the bridge over the creek. Watched him until he walked out of sight, grudgingly admiring the strong set of his shoulders and the quiet, solid competence of him.

  Eight years of soldiering had g
iven him the kind of masculinity that only came from encountering and surviving adversity and hardship day after day, year after year. The years since high school had changed them both in ways they’d never anticipated.

  She’d come back home bruised and battered from a failed relationship, spooked as a deer and afraid of her own shadow. Billy’d been through different fires and was scorched around the edges by his years in the military, but those fires had given him a depth and substance that many men would never achieve.

  True, she resented him for buying the piece of land she’d dreamed of building her little house on, but after Travis’s phone call, she was glad Billy was here. Keeping Rose safe from harm was her top priority, and Billy had as much as promised that no harm would come to them here.

  “Do you think Billy could teach me to ride?” Rose asked, coming to stand beside her.

  “If anyone could, it’d be Billy. He was a rodeo champ before he was eighteen. Just a kid, but he beat ’em all, even the best of the best.”

  “Momma, what’s rodeo?”

  Shannon looked down at her daughter and gave a rueful laugh as she reached to tousle Rose’s tawny curls. “Rodeo’s a crazy part of the wild spirit of the West, Rose, and I promise I’ll take you to see one, first chance we get. Now let’s pack up a lunch for your grampy and find him, if we can.”

  * * *

  BILLY FINISHED CUTTING and turning both fields by sundown. He wanted to make good on the day because of Shannon. Not only because she doubted he could physically handle the full-time work, but also because of how vulnerable she was right now. She was nursing wounds from a failed marriage, she’d given up her singing career, returned home with Rose and was looking for a safe place to rebuild her life. Billy was hoping she’d realize her father’s ranch was the place. He was hoping she’d want to stay.

  Shannon had always been different from the other girls, even back in high school. Strong willed, with a self-confidence that went way beyond her years. She was smart as a whip, prettier than an October sunset and she could sing. Man, could she sing.