Cowboy on My Mind

by R. C. Ryan

  Rebecca turned to the old man, seated alone at the table. “So you’re Finn’s secret weapon.”

  He gave a slight bow of his head, sending the mane of silver hair dancing at his shoulders.

  “Lucky you, Finn.” Rebecca held up the coffeepot. “Zachariah, I’m not sure how much is left, but you’re welcome to it before we wash it.”

  “Thank you.” The old man held out his cup. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  She topped off his coffee before returning to the sink to wash out the coffeepot.

  Ben gathered the damp towels from Sam and Finn and tossed them in a basket before catching Rebecca’s hand. “Let’s go see what Roscoe and Otis have decided about that old engine.”

  As they walked out, Sam and Finn followed.

  Zachariah drained his cup before trailing slowly behind.

  Sam and Finn kept up a running commentary about life on a ranch, the smelly chores they endured, and their need to head to town on a regular basis, in their quest for pretty women. And through it all, though Rebecca’s cheeks bloomed with color, she good-naturedly joined in the laughter, and even added a joke or two of her own.

  It occurred to Zachariah that this little female was a lot more than she’d first appeared.

  He couldn’t wait to see how all this would play out. As Finn had pointed out, these two, brash Benedict and Hank Henderson’s only daughter, seemed totally unsuited, at least to her father.

  Unsuited or not, there was definitely something going on.

  For now, Zachariah decided to sit back and enjoy the show.

  Chapter Eleven

  So my old van will be out of commission for at least a day?” Mary Pat’s expression betrayed her feelings. “I really wanted to see Lamar and Lloyd, but I understand these things take time.”

  Mac squeezed her hand. “I wish I could take you. But if Roscoe and Otis are going to spend the day tinkering with that engine, I’ll be needed up in the hills with the herd.”

  “I could take you, Mary Pat.” Ben nodded toward his truck. “Rebecca and I don’t have any real plans. We just thought we’d spend the day away from town. What time would you like to go?”

  “Are you sure?” Mary Pat turned to Rebecca.

  Rebecca nodded. “I’d love to see some of the countryside. I’ve been away from Haller Creek too long.”

  Mary Pat took in a breath. “All right, then. We can go any time it’s convenient.”

  Ben looked from Rebecca to Mary Pat. “How about now?”

  The two women shared a smile.

  They left the two old men, heads bent close under the hood, removing an array of hoses, caps, and filters.

  Mac drew Mary Pat off to one side. “I think you should plan on staying the night. You never know what Otis and Roscoe will find once they start tearing that old engine apart.”

  She lay a hand on his arm. “All right. Let’s see how it goes. And if I’m back from Lamar’s in time, maybe I’ll bake something special for tonight’s dessert.”

  His handsome face was transformed from concern to joy as a wide smile crinkled the fine lines around his eyes. “Now that’ll be worth a day in the hills alone with the cattle.”

  The day was a perfect Montana autumn day, with a sky filled with puffy clouds, the leaves of the cottonwoods drifting on the slight breeze. The hills were dark with cattle. There wasn’t a soul around for miles.

  As they followed the path of a narrow dirt trail, Mary Pat carried on an easy conversation with Rebecca.

  “Are you happy to be back in Haller Creek, Rebecca?”

  “I am. When I first left for college, I swore I’d never come back.”

  “Why is that?”

  Rebecca gave a soft laugh. “I was feeling…” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I guess I was feeling crowded. I’m an only child. Both my parents tend to push me toward the goals they’ve set for me, without asking me what I want.”

  “And what goals are you chasing?”

  Rebecca sighed. “I’m not really sure. I just know I want to try some things. Like having my own place. I arranged to rent a small house a few blocks from my parents.”

  “How is that working out?”

  “There are days when I love the freedom. At other times it’s lonely.” She looked over at the older woman. “I’ve always admired your independence, Miss Healy. I know you travel all around the county. Are you ever lonely?”

  “First, call me Mary Pat. You’re out of school now, Rebecca. And the answer is yes. Being lonely comes with the territory. There are days when I question everything about my life. Both my parents are gone now. No husband. No children. And then there are days when I think about the hundreds of children and their families who’ve touched my life, and I feel lucky to do what I do.”

  “Are there things you hoped to do but didn’t?”

  Mary Pat gave her a gentle smile. “I’m sure everyone looks back on their life and sees things they didn’t accomplish. But it’s important to concentrate on the things that matter.”

  Ben looked over. “I hope you know how grateful my brothers and I are for you every day, Mary Pat.” To Rebecca he added, “Without her help, we might not have become the family we are today.”

  Mary Pat reached across Rebecca to squeeze his arm. “One of my most cherished accomplishments. You and Sam and Finn are like my own.”

  Hearing the obvious affection between these two, Rebecca found herself comparing their conversation to ones she’d had with her father. If he weren’t so difficult and demanding, she would love to be able to tell him how much he meant to her. Instead, she seemed to spend all her time having to defend herself against all the little jabs he lobbed her way. Jabs he probably wasn’t even aware came across as insults.

  Mary Pat looked up. “There’s the Platt ranch.”

  The two-story farmhouse sat in a high meadow. Directly behind it was a barn, its once-red paint now faded and peeling. If it weren’t for the cattle off to one side and a rusty truck parked beside the barn, it would appear deserted.

  They pulled up behind the truck and stepped out.

  Hearing men’s voices, they walked into the barn.

  Mary Pat cupped her hands to her mouth. “Hello. It’s Mary Pat Healy.”

  “Well now.” A gray-haired man in overalls and a plaid shirt stepped out of a back room. “Pa was just saying the other day that we haven’t seen you in quite a while.” He waved a hand. “Come on back here. We’re in Pa’s workroom.”

  Mary Pat led the way, with Ben and Rebecca trailing behind.

  They stepped through an open doorway into a big room filled with overhead lights. An old man, dressed like the younger version of himself in overalls and a plaid shirt, his hair white as Montana snow, was busy brushing liquid on a swing made entirely of logs. The room smelled of varnish and turpentine and the wonderful fragrance of freshly hewn logs.

  “Mary Pat.” The older man set aside his brush and wiped his hands with a rag before hurrying over to give her a warm embrace.

  “Lamar. Oh, don’t you look good.”

  “I was just about to say the same. You’re a sight for these old eyes.”

  “Lamar, this is Ben Monroe, Mackenzie Monroe’s oldest son, and his friend Rebecca Henderson.”

  Sharp blackbird eyes studied the young couple as he offered a handshake. “I know your daddy. A good man. Welcome to you, and you, Rebecca.” He turned. “This is my son, Lloyd.”

  The strength in both men’s handshakes was impressive. A lifetime of ranching had kept them strong and active.

  Mary Pat turned toward the log swing. “I see you’re still spending your time staying busy.”

  Lamar nodded. “Been doing this for so many seasons, it’s second nature to me now.”

  Rebecca looked around at the half dozen swings, as well as the log tables that lined one wall and the log chairs that lined another. All bore the bright shine of clear varnish, allowing the grain of the wood to show through.

  “Oh, these are so s
olid and sturdy.” She turned to the men. “Do you mind if I sit on one?”

  “Just pick one of those over there.” Lamar chuckled. “If you sit on this one I just finished varnishing, you’ll be stuck there until next spring.”

  They joined in the laughter as she crossed to a swing and tentatively sat on it, setting it into motion. Minutes later Ben joined her and the two of them leaned back, enjoying the gentle motion.

  Lamar and Mary Pat sat in a second swing, while Lloyd took his time cleaning brushes before setting them aside.

  Too restless to sit for long, Rebecca moved around the room, studying the picnic tables, the big, solid chairs, the number of swings. “I can see these in a backyard, or on a big, sunny porch. How much do you sell them for?”

  The old man grinned. “I couldn’t say.”

  She looked over. “What do you mean? Don’t you sell them?”

  He shrugged. “Give ’em to friends who want ’em, mostly. The rest just sit here gathering dust.”

  “You don’t make them to sell?”

  He thought about that for a moment, before looking over at his son. “I started making them because we had too much timber on the property. It was a way to thin the woods, and it gave me a way to fill the hours through the long winters.”

  “Mr. Platt—” she began, but he lifted a hand.

  “Just Lamar.”

  She walked closer. “Lamar, would you let me buy one of each of these? A table, a chair, and a swing?”

  He lifted his shoulders. “I wouldn’t know what to charge you.”

  “How about fifty dollars for each?”

  He mentally calculated. “You’re going to give me a hundred and fifty dollars for a table, a chair, and a swing I made for nothing?”

  “The logs may have been free, but it took hours of your labor.”

  He gave a deep roar of laughter. “I’m more than happy to oblige you. But I swear I’m getting the best of this deal. How’re you planning on taking them with you?”

  Rebecca turned to Ben. “Will they fit in the back of your truck?”

  He nodded. “We can try.”

  Lamar smiled. “You want Lloyd to give you a hand, Ben?”

  “Thanks.”

  Ben backed the truck into the barn and as close to the doorway of the workroom as he could go. The two men loaded the back of the truck, while Lamar and the women watched.

  Afterward, the old man heaved himself from the swing. “Come on inside. I’ll make us some coffee and you can sample Lloyd’s biscuits.”

  They sat around a scarred wooden table, in a kitchen that probably looked the same as it had when the house was built by Lamar’s father more than a hundred years earlier.

  As Rebecca sipped her coffee, she thought father and son could be out of a photo of Montana’s early settlers. They wore matching smiles, matching dark, piercing eyes, and a look of complete, utter contentment.

  She withdrew a folded blank check from her wallet and made it out for the amount promised. As she handed it to Lamar, she said, “I hope you don’t mind a check. I know it isn’t convenient having to take it to the bank.”

  “Don’t you worry.” The old man accepted it with a look of wonder. “Lloyd and I usually go into Haller Creek once a month or so. I never expected to be putting money in the bank. For my hobby.”

  Rebecca’s voice was filled with a sense of contained excitement. “If I’m right, Lamar, this could be the start of many more checks.”

  He tucked it away in his shirt pocket and broke open a flaky biscuit. “What do you think of Lloyd’s baking?”

  Mary Pat helped herself to a second one. “These would certainly win a blue ribbon at the county fair, Lloyd.”

  Father and son shared a smile.

  Mary Pat took a small notebook from her pocket. “I should be heading back this way in about a month. Is there anything you can’t buy in Haller Creek that I could bring you?”

  Both men spoke in unison.

  “I know Lloyd would enjoy—”

  “I know Pa would like—”

  The two men stopped and grinned.

  Lloyd bowed his head to his father. “You first, Pa.”

  The older man chuckled. “We’re probably going to ask for the same thing. I know my son was really fond of those chocolate chip cookies you brought us on your last visit.”

  Lloyd nodded. “I was about to say the same about you, Pa. You always did have a sweet tooth.”

  Smiling, Mary Pat made a notation in her book. “I baked them especially for the two of you. And next time I head this way, you can be sure I’ll have plenty of them.”

  Lamar polished off his biscuit and drained his coffee. “We’d be obliged.”

  “What sweet men.” Rebecca turned for a final wave before fastening her seat belt.

  “I always look forward to our visits.” Mary Pat put on her sunglasses. “Years ago, when I first paid a call, I thought they might be lonely, living way out here, so far from civilization. But through the years I’ve come to realize they’re perfectly suited to this life. They have their land, their cattle, and each other. They continue working the way they did in their younger days, tending the land, the cattle, and in autumn and winter, they stay busy with their hobby. Speaking of which…” She glanced at the rear of Ben’s truck, crammed with log furniture. “Did you buy all that for your rental house?”

  Rebecca gave a shake of her head. “Actually, seeing them gave me an idea.” She looked over at Ben. “I asked my father if I could rent a small plot of fenced property that sits alongside his hardware store. Right now, he’s using it to store trash. I’m still not sure whether or not I can make it work, but now I’m thinking I’d like to make it into a little garden area.”

  Ben muttered, “With winter coming, I’m not sure folks are thinking about garden stuff.”

  “I agree. But I can see these things on a front porch, or under a big, spreading tree, as comfortable in snow as in summer sunshine. They’re sturdy and durable and natural. Not like the stuff that’s made of plastic and blows away in a good wind, or made of metal that rusts in the rain and snow. But there’s something even better than all that. They’re made locally, by a neighbor. I think that will appeal to folks in Haller Creek.”

  Ben could hear the thread of excitement in her voice. He turned to study her, aware that she’d just volunteered something deeply personal. “You know what?”

  She looked over.

  He winked. “I think you’re on to something. Most folks like the idea of helping a neighbor. But if they can do it by buying something really well made, practical, and something that will last for years, they’re twice as happy.” He paused and reached for her hand. “What are you going to call your little garden area?”

  She shook her head, looking down at their joined hands. “I don’t know. This is all so new. I wasn’t even sure what I’d do until I saw Lamar’s log furniture. Now I guess I’ll just take it a step at a time until something sounds right.”

  Mary Pat smiled and nodded. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with but a single step.”

  Her voice trailed off when she realized the two weren’t listening to a word she said. She turned to stare out the window to hide her knowing smile.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Ben pulled up to the ranch a little while later, both Otis and Roscoe were standing by Mary Pat’s van. Alongside them in the late afternoon sun was a long worktable holding an assortment of tools and engine parts.

  Ben, Rebecca, and Mary Pat hurried over.

  Ben peered over the old men’s shoulders. “How’s it going?”

  “Good.” Roscoe wiped his hands on a rag before stuffing it in his back pocket. “It’s slow going, but when we’re through here, this little baby will be purring.”

  Otis lifted his head long enough to ask Mary Pat, “You mind staying the night?”

  Mary Pat shook her head. “When my old van is getting star treatment at the hands of two skilled mechanics, I’m more th
an happy to stick around until the job is finished. I just wish I could repay the two of you.”

  Roscoe smiled. “You may want to pay us by lending a hand in the kitchen. Zachariah knows his beef, but nobody can bake desserts like you.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.” She kissed each of their cheeks before heading toward the ranch house.

  A short time later Mary Pat walked out carrying a tray of thick roast beef sandwiches and frosty glasses filled with lemonade.

  “If you two have been working since we left this morning, you need a break.” She passed around the food and drinks.

  Ben caught Rebecca’s hand and indicated the horses in a nearby corral. “There’s plenty of time to ride. Want me to saddle up a couple? We could ride up to the herd in the high country.”

  Rebecca turned to Mary Pat. “Or I could lend a hand in the kitchen.”

  The older woman gave a firm shake of her head. “Zachariah and I have it covered. You two enjoy the sunshine while you can.”

  While Mary Pat stood talking and laughing with Otis and Roscoe, Ben and Rebecca cut two horses from the herd and led them to the barn. A short time later they could be seen riding across a high, grassy meadow.

  Their laughter drifted on the breeze.

  “Oh, Ben. It’s been too long.” Rebecca gave her mare her head and they sailed across the field, with Ben’s gelding keeping pace.

  They rode side by side until they came to a stream. The horses stepped into the water, dipping their heads to drink. When they crossed the stream, Ben slid from the saddle, and Rebecca did the same.

  They held the reins lightly as they paused.

  Rebecca looked out across the rolling meadows. “Is all this yours?”

  A smile touched his mouth, softening all his features. “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t realize how big the ranch is.”

  “It was once even bigger.” He pointed to the lush rangeland in the distance. “The southern range was deeded to my father’s sister. She left home at sixteen and nobody has seen her since, but the land is still being held in her name and the names of any heirs she may have.”