Whispers in the Wind

by C. E. Lemieux, Jr.

  When the dew is still lying wet upon the ground, the wind merely a gentle breeze, and the sun has tipped its face over the horizon, the mornings are as fresh as clean laundry out there on the plains. That panhandle country doesn’t seem nearly as dry and desolate then as it does later in the day. In fact, I’d say it would compare with just about the best place on earth. With the birds rejoicing in the background, it’s hard not to want to sing along with them.

  I had risen early that morning, to start the coffee and roll out some biscuits. I talked J.B. into coming by for some breakfast before we headed out to the ranch. Of course, it really didn’t involve too much debate on my part. J.B. seldom got a home cooked meal unless he fixed it for himself and, knowing J.B. like I did, I doubt if that was very often the case. Most of the time he ate at the Commercial Café downtown or at the Sunset Café up on the hill. During roundups the ranch did all the feeding, but the cowboys were on their own any other time.

  I had a little struggle pulling myself out of bed that morning. The night air had cooled off considerably, for a summer night, and with the windows open it had become the perfect sleeping night.

  When we got home from the movies the night before, we sat in the pickup right there in front of the house. I was so sleepy I could hardly keep my eyes open, but I didn’t want to go inside. With the windows rolled down and J.B. holding me we sat there looking at the stars and whispering quietly.

  It was a beautiful night. The birds were all asleep by then, and the sounds that lingered were those of the night movers. A pack of coyotes howled in the distance and closer, but still a long ways off, some frogs or toads had found a stand of water or maybe a mess of June bugs and were busy telling everyone about it. The crickets under the porch were rubbing their legs together sending messages back and forth to each other. Every so often the breeze would pick up a little and rattle the leaves of the cottonwoods. I love the sound those big heart-shaped leaves make when they clatter together.

  When J.B. finally walked me up to the porch and kissed me goodnight, I was ready to sleep and sleep good. And sleep is what I did, until a few little sunbeams started peeking in the east window of my room. That new morning sun was still just a thin slice of orange on the horizon, when those rays broke through the leaves of the cottonwoods outside and illuminated the dust particles floating in my room. Momma was an early riser, but I out-rose her that morning. The temptation was there to stay all cuddled in the hand-stitched quilts that covered me, but once the thought of J.B. coming over broke through the cobwebs of sleep, I was up.

  Not long after the smell of brewing coffee had mingled with the scent of bacon frying in that old cast iron skillet, I heard Momma making her way down the stairs. She had already straightened herself up. Momma didn’t believe in coming down those stairs until she was presentable. She had brushed out the long strands which fell from her head like a bridal train and rewound it into the bun atop of her head. She was already dressed in one of the broadcloth dresses she had sewn together the winter before.

  “My goodness, but you were up early today, Abby. What’s wrong? Couldn’t you sleep?”

  I grinned at her and then kissed her on the cheek.

  “No, Momma, I slept just fine. In fact, I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning, but I invited J.B. over for breakfast. He and I are going out to the ranch to ride some this morning. I promised him I would fix him some breakfast before we head out.”

  She looked over at the stove.

  “Well, you better get to preparing a little more. I figure J.B. may put away some groceries. All that muscle probably needs a little extra nourishment.”

  She got out another skillet, poured a little bacon grease in it and scrambled up about a half-dozen eggs. She was surely right about J.B.’s appetite, because I had scarcely set the plate down in front of him, before I was picking it back up to wash, though that was hardly necessary after he’d sopped everything up with about three of my sourdough biscuits. After washing it all down with nearly half a pot of coffee, he slid his chair away from the table.

  “Ladies, that breakfast was better than a nicely wrapped present on Christmas day. But just like Christmas, it’s best left as a special occasion, because a man could get too spoiled being done for like that.”

  Momma was practical as usual.

  “Now, J.B. it was just breakfast and breakfast is eaten every day. Don’t go making out like it was your last meal. You know you could stop by here for a meal three times a day if you wanted.”

  “I know, Mrs. McAllister, and I always appreciate your hospitality. Can I help clear the dishes?”

  She shook her head and waved him off.

  “No, you just put your plate on the counter in the kitchen. I’ll take care of everything else. You and Abby Lynn best get a move on and go check your cows. If you wait much longer, they’ll be thinking you’ve abandoned them.”

  While we were eating, Momma had packed up a basket for our lunch, using the leftover bacon for sandwiches. She brought that out of the kitchen and shooed us off. Then, she stood out on the porch as we drove away. I glanced back as she wiped her hands on her apron and went back inside.

  The morning was still pleasantly cool, but it was warming. It looked like it would probably hit eighty degrees by noon. By the time we reached the ranch, it had warmed enough a person could notice.

  At the ranch, J.B. saddled the horses. Saint Nick was his normal mount. Saint Nick was a chestnut brown gelding and he was a pretty thing to look at. Strong and muscular, he stood about sixteen hands high. J.B. had worked him for about five years and they seemed to communicate well with each other. He had picked a black mare for me.

  “Are you sure this one is calm enough for me? It’s been quite a while since I was on one of these things you know.”

  I loved horses, but had little opportunity to ride them. They are such beautiful and intelligent animals, deserving of the reverence most cowhands offer them. That black mare was as dark as midnight and seemed as gentle as a lamb, but I couldn’t hide the nervousness in my voice.

  “Awe, you don’t have to worry about her. Why, she rides as smooth as butter over a warm piece of toast and she’s smart, too. She’ll do most all the drivin’. You sit there and enjoy the view out the windows. I don’t know what it is about her, but she seems to know she needs to take it easy on beginners. But when I get up there, she’ll work about as hard as ol’ Saint Nick there.”

  I smiled trying to at least look assured.

  “What’s her name, J.B.?”

  He stopped in midstream, as he was tightening the cinch strap, and he got the orneriest grin on his face I’d ever seen. J.B. was so ornery I would have sworn it was his middle name, if I hadn’t known different .

  “Well, now, if there ain’t a little irony in this, then I’ve never seen irony before. You’re gonna love this Abby. We call her S.S., which is short for Sally Sue. Ain’t that a hoot?”

  It took a second for me to get it, call me slow, but I guess there was considerable amusement in the fact that I was riding a horse named after the one girl who had caused such turbulence in my younger years. I found it hard to contain a little giggle myself.

  “Are you sure this thing’s safe for me to ride. I mean, if she carries any connection to her namesake, and she has any idea of our history, then she may hold a grudge against me. That could be kind of dangerous. She might throw me for spite. I could just imagine her trying to dump me off in a cow-patty or a cactus for the sole purpose of getting even. Heck, she might wait until we get next to the canyon or something, and try to end it all for good.”

  My reply sent J.B. into a belly laugh. I thought he was going to scare off the horses.

  When he had finally gained enough composure to speak, he said, “Well, I don’t know. I was trying to keep it a secret, but you let the cat out of the bag. Now she knows just enough she’ll insist I tell her the whole story.”

  When it seemed he’d laughed until he felt stupid for it, he
finished cinching the saddle and then climbed up top of Saint Nick. I was surprised at how quickly I became comfortable with being in the saddle. It had to have been a good ten years since I had been on a horse, but it was just like they say about riding a bike, it all comes back to you. Sally was a real smooth mount, despite the ill feelings that might have existed in the past.

  We started out in the south pasture, and rode along checking the fence and the cattle. When J.B. seemed satisfied, we moved over to the east pasture. He pointed out a bull he’d bought at the sale barn a couple weeks earlier. I don’t think I had ever been that close to an animal of that size, except maybe when they had one at the county fair there in Beaver City. He was a black angus, as were most of the cattle out on the Lazy B.

  Over in the west pasture there was a little hill that sloped off down toward the river into a clear valley. It was pretty much free of brush and yucca. I’d been on Sally long enough to feel comfortable and I couldn’t resist the urge to gallop her down through there. I put a little kick to her and she took off, leaving J.B. and Saint Nick to do some catching up. I got to hand it to Saint Nick though, when sent on a mission, he was good for the task. We were probably a good thirty yards ahead, when J.B. put the spurs to him and set him off. I could hear his hooves pounding closer behind us, and in no time at all he came along side, nostrils flaring.

  When we reached the river we dismounted and picketed the horses so they could graze and drink. There was a windmill pumping in a shallow well nearby that ran out into kind of a natural pond. We found a spot under a giant cottonwood, and spread out a cloth on which to sit. I unpacked Momma’s lunch, while J.B. went over to the well to get us some water.

  The river was running, though there wasn’t much to it. Most of the time it wasn’t anything but a trickle, maybe six or eight feet wide and, on the average, about six inches deep. There were places where it was deeper, but generally where the beavers had dammed it up. The cattle usually kept it stirred up with mud. Still the water was cool on the feet and a pleasure to walk in on a hot day. It was an oasis of green in the midst of brown, when the summer turned hot and burnt up all the grass in the pastures. And the little babbling sound of the water flowing, well, it gave a comfort to the soul.

  We sat there under the shade of those big cottonwood leaves, listening to the sounds of nature and eating Momma’s bacon sandwiches. The cool clear water from that well went along way to quench a thirst. It was so peaceful out there, listening to a distant cow call for its calf every so often; smelling the scent of the wild flowers each time the breeze would carry it our way. It made me long for a place out in the country.

  “I like it out here, J.B. It’s so quiet and calm. Thank you for bringing me along.”

  “Oh, this was my pleasure all together. It ain’t often I’ve got me a pretty gal to ride along when I’m checking on other peoples cattle.”

  “So, when are you going to get a place of your own, so I can come out and ride whenever I feel like it?”

  He shook his head.

  “Don’t know, but you’re welcome to come out here anytime you want. I already talked to Mr. Winslow about it and he don’t mind you being out here at all. He said it might improve the disposition of his herd if a pretty girl like you rode through here every once in a while.”

  I blushed a little, and he was silent for a second or two. Then he cleared his throat.

  “You know, Abby, you are as beautiful as the reflection of a buttercup under a child’s chin. You’re so lively and fresh; it makes me happy just being within ten feet of you. I’m real glad you came along today, but it’ll make it that much harder to ride around out here tomorrow.”

  I blushed again.

  “Cowboy, you sound like you’re using courting words, don’t tease me with them if you’re not.”

  He straightened up a bit.

  “Miss Abby Lynn, if you’ll allow it, I’ll court you as long and as hard as it takes, to win your heart.”

  I looked at him, those deep blue eyes glistening in the sunlight, his blond hair creased by the hat he had taken off when we sat down, his hands callused but gentle. He was as simple and down to earth as nature itself, and I liked that.

  “J.B., I can’t tell you how much I have enjoyed the last couple of days with you. I have been as giddy as a schoolgirl, and I really never thought I’d have a chance to feel this way again. With the cancer and then the divorce, it seemed life had made up its mind that happiness wasn’t in my corner anymore. And the odd thing is you were there all along. You were always there standing in the shadows, looking out for me. Why?”

  He reached down and picked up a blade of grass. When he looked up, our eyes met and then he looked away again. I knew what he was going to say before he said it, but it was so wonderful to hear the words.

  “Because, I love you Abby. I always have, but I knew your heart was somewhere else. It hurt like the dickens, it did. Sometimes I would ask the Good Lord, why. ‘Why can’t she be mine,’ I’d ask. But sometimes our time isn’t His time, and sometimes He knows the path life must take, even when we don’t know there is a path. So, I made up my mind to be the one person you could count on the most, and if you never came to me, I reasoned, I’d be a better person for having been there for you.”

  Hearing him open up like that sent goose bumps down my arms. It was a big risk he was taking, sharing what had been in his heart all those years. I felt a twinge of guilt that I had been too blind to see what was always in front of me.

  He played with that piece of grass as he spoke. He had always done that when conversation got serious, even as a kid. I remember when I use to wait for Henry with him; he would pick up a twig and peal the bark or pull a leaf apart along its veins.

  So, when he looked up and saw the tears streaming down my cheeks, I’m sure he must have felt he had said something wrong, but he didn’t. No, he didn’t say anything wrong at all. He got it all right, and that’s what started those tears. They were tears for all the time spent chasing after what wasn’t meant to be, tears for the depth of love I had heard in his words, and tears of joy at being the object of that love. I couldn’t help myself; they bubbled up like the water from a natural spring far below ground.

  “All my life I have been surrounded by the love of my parents. An unselfish, unending love, but no one else has ever loved me like that before, except you. I can’t believe it took me so long to find it. Will you ever forgive me?”

  He smiled and he leaned over and kissed my cheek, tasting my tears.

  “Abby, there ain’t anything to forgive. Don’t you know that when someone loves you like that, they can’t help it? They don’t love for what they get in return; they love because that’s what their heart tells them to do. What is it that your daddy used to teach us out of the Bible? ‘Love is patient and kind and knows no ills.’”

  I knew the passage. Daddy had read it often enough. It was in First Corinthians, Chapter Thirteen, and J.B. had gotten the gist of it. I didn’t ever expect a man to show that much love towards me. He had given me so much to contemplate.

  I leaned over into him. His back was against the tree. Sitting there, with his arms around me, in the shadows of the trees, how could I ever expect that it could get any better? I was loved, and there was no doubt about it, because he had shown that to me for as long as I had known him. It was a feeling with which I was unfamiliar. I sat there drinking it up, staring up at the branches of that big old cottonwood. The breeze was light, but it was enough to put a lazy sway into the tree.

  “You know, J.B., there are times like this one right here, or when I’m sitting in Momma’s swing out on the front porch, I feel I can almost hear Daddy speaking to me through the quiet hush of the wind. It’s almost like he is whispering to me, kind of reassuring-like. Does that sound silly to you?”

  He straightened up a little.

  “No, Abby, it don’t. I don’t think it’s silly at all. Sometimes I think there may be a lot of wisdom in listening to things li
ke that. Why who’s to say how those things work? Maybe those who have gone on before us are able to see what life is offering to us and they send out these little whispers to offer some kind of advice. I don’t know, only the Good Lord does, but I wouldn’t think of it as silly, anyway.”

  He paused.

  “Just what do you think your daddy would be saying if he was to talk to you, right about now?”

  “Well, I think he’d say I need to search my heart, understand what it’s saying to me, and go where it leads me, because if your heart is in the right place, then it won’t lead you wrong. I think that’s what went wrong with Henry, I didn’t really understand what my heart was looking for, and I made up the answers with my mind. And I think, maybe, he’d say everything is going to be okay.”

  “Well, that sounds like something your daddy would say, and it sounds like real good advice, too.”

  It was quiet while we contemplated on things for a while. It was such a beautiful day; I could have sat there with J.B. all afternoon. I knew I had to let him get back to his work, but I wasn’t about to rush him. In the end, it was he who determined we had been idle long enough. He kissed my head and patted my shoulder, and I leaned forward so he could stand. He put on his hat and then reached out his hand to help me up. We gathered up our things and cinched up the saddles on the horses.

  As he leaned in toward the horse to help me up, I turned to face him. Our eyes met, and our lips melted together. I felt his strong arms surround me, and pull me close to him. Our bodies pressed together, and I could feel the rippling of his muscles through his shirt. I felt the heat rise to the surface of my skin. The touch of his chest against mine gave me a little shiver. We held our embrace, our lips press tightly to each other. My heart was pounding, so deeply within my chest I was sure he could feel it as well, and it felt as if, at any moment, it would explode. My knees began to weaken. He bent to pick me up into his arms, and we kissed once again. And I heard myself whisper, “I love you.”

  He held me in his arms, and placed his cheek upon mine.

  “I love you, too, Abby Lynn.”

  Then he lifted me up, and placed me into the saddle. He laid his head against my leg, and held his arm around my waist, and then with all the strength he could muster, he pulled away from me, and threw his boot into the stirrup of his saddle.

  I knew with J.B., that’s how it would be, and I probably would have been disappointed if he had acted any differently. He was a gentleman, through and through. He had his standards, and he had the self-control to stick to them. That was what had allowed him to wait patiently for me all those years. It didn’t come from what others expected him to be, but rather who he expected him to be.

  As we trotted along, I could still feel the excitement building within me, and I felt like a young girl faced with the possibility of her first love. The intensity of the moment combined with the restraint and self-control he had displayed seemed to amplify the emotions inside of me. I knew that I loved him, and that I had never wanted anyone as much as I wanted him at that moment. Had he wavered, I would have given myself to him completely, but he would not and this I knew. I felt a sort of safety in that knowledge and it allowed me to savor the moment, rather than run away from it.

  We rode on across the river and into the south pasture. There we found the fence was down near the river. We rounded up the cattle that had strayed, set new posts and re-stretched the wires. By the time we finished it was late into the afternoon, and we rode back to the headquarters where we rubbed down and brushed the horses. We fed a bottle calf J.B. had in the corrals. Her momma hadn’t lived through the birth. So, J.B. had brought it into the headquarters to look after.

  J.B. took me back to town and headed home to clean up for supper. That evening after supper we took Ashley down to the park, and let her run and play. She was still too little for some of the playground equipment, but letting her run out her energy was enough. She was one tired little girl by the time we walked back up the street to the house. She fell asleep with her head on J.B.’s shoulder as we neared the house. J.B. took her upstairs and changed her, and then tucked her in to bed. She never stirred once.

  We took our tea out on the front porch. It was a wonderful way to end the day, sitting there in the porch swing together. The sky was black as coal and there wasn’t a cloud in site. The stars twinkled above like ships at sea sending Morse code. With J.B.’s arm around my shoulder and my head leaning against him, we sat together and watched as the town went to sleep. One by one the windows darkened, until it seemed we were the only ones awake in the whole wide world. I felt his warmth next to me, and I knew he would be leaving soon to go back out to the ranch, but I wished he could stay. I found myself longing to sleep next to him the entire night through, our bodies warming each other.

  Then I felt the familiar pat against my shoulder, and I knew it was time.

  “I’ve got to get up early tomorrow and take some heifers down to the sale barn, or else I’d stay here with you on this swing all night long.”

  “Will you stop by tomorrow? How about lunch?”

  “I can’t make lunch, but I’ll come by for supper again, if I’m invited.”

  “Of course you’re invited. You heard Momma this morning. She’d feed you every day, if you’d let her.”

  “Well, no need in making a nuisance out of myself.”

  “You’ve never been a nuisance around here.”

  I kissed him and tussled up his hair.

  “So, have I roped me a cowboy?”

  “Roped, thrown and tied.”

  He went through all the motions as he said it.

  “Now, goodnight little lady,” he said as he placed his hat on his head.

  I tipped his hat brim up so I could see his eyes, and kissed him again.

  “Goodnight, cowboy.”

  He pulled me close against him in a warm embrace.

  As he walked away I remember thinking, “Life’s hard when you’re in love with a gentleman.”