by Paula Mabbel
He never regretted a day he had spent in the Navy, especially as a member of the elite SEALs. It had never been easy, but Chance had worked hard, and he'd risen through the ranks quickly. He loved his work, but when it was time for him to go back to the States, it didn't occur to him that he'd have to find a regular job. He had no idea what he was going to do outside the service, but Chance figured he had some time to mull over his options while he settled in at the house he’d grown up in.
As Chance rode the bus from the airport to the side of Coyote Creek, he realized he didn't recognize any of the faces riding with him. Could three years really have changed a town that much? Chance was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice that a group of teenagers were staring at him and giggling. They were daring each other to go over and talk to him, but not one of them had the courage.
In his twenty-eight years, Chance never had any idea how good looking he was. Even on a bus, after thirty-eight hours of travel, with a smattering of five o’ clock shadow and tired eyes, he looked like a cowboy out of an Old West film. His jaw was as chiseled as a marble statue, and his whole face lit up when he smiled. His sandy blond hair and big, brown eyes gave him the air of a movie star, but his quiet demeanor left every woman he came into contact with trying to save him from the invisible specter of his sadness.
The bus pulled up at the corner closest to Chance's family farm, which was only about a mile's walk away. He thanked the bus driver and began the long walk up the drive, taking in the scenery that reminded him so much of his childhood. Everything was so quiet in the middle of the day, so peaceful. It was nothing like the life he'd just left behind. Chance was so overwhelmed by the quiet that he didn't realize he'd reached the property where his family's farm had been standing for generations.
And it wasn't there.
At first, Chance couldn't process what he was looking at. The sky that had once been landscape behind the farmhouse was now the only thing there was to see. There were some charred remains of what would have been the main framing of the house littering the ground, but anything substantial that had been left behind had long been blown away by the Montana winds. Chance's mind was racing. Why hadn't anyone told him? Called him? Written him? Something...
Chance pulled the cell phone he'd grabbed at a drug store out of his bag and tried to dial the last number he had for his sister, but the phone wouldn't let him call overseas. In a fit of frustration, he chucked the phone into the empty field in front of him. He spun around, looking at the empty sky, the space where he had run and played and ridden horses as a boy.
There was nothing left. And Chance had no idea what to do.
***
Clyde McCoy walked into the diner in Serenity Hill, Montana, slapping the backs of a few old timers as he made his way past the counter. A couple of the men tipped their hats as McCoy went by; words were rarely exchanged among the men that had lived and breathed all of their days in Serenity Hill. Just a nod and a half smile did well enough to say “good morning.” Most days, Clyde would sit down and join the other ranchers for a coffee and a plate of eggs. But today, he had a mission.
Clyde's old ranch hand, Marcus, had packed up and made his way toward the coast, hoping to get a job working with horses in Northern California. So now, Clyde had no one to help him with the daily chores, except his nineteen-year-old daughter, Mathilda, and she could only do so much.
Mattie, as everyone called her, had grown up on the ranch, and she was as skilled at running the operation as Clyde himself. But there was still plenty of work that needed to be done, and Clyde needed a young man on his staff to do it. Serenity Hill was a town of old timers. Most of the young men who had grown up there had moved away for college or better jobs in other states. No one wanted to hang around town and work on a ranch or a farm. They wanted bigger and better lives, and Serenity Hill didn't offer bigger, it only offered quaint.
Clyde walked up to a booth occupied by Joe Myers, the editor of Serenity Hill's newspaper, and plopped an ad that Mattie had typed down in front of him.
“Joe, can you put this in the paper for me? Maybe put it on the Interweb? I need myself a new ranch hand.”
Joe laughed and shook his head. “The Internet, you mean, Clyde? Sure, I'd be happy to. No charge either, after the help you gave me with my foal last spring.”
Clyde nodded his head in thanks, said his goodbyes to the girls behind the counter, and walked out of the diner. Joe picked up the ad and gave it a read.
Ranch hand needed!
$200/week + room & board
Serious long-term inquiries only!
Contact McCoy Ranch, Serenity Hill, Montana
***
Chance felt like he'd been wandering around Montana for months, desperately grasping at any work opportunity he could find. He'd hitchhiked from Helena to Columbia Falls, taken a bus from Glasgow to St. Mary, and still he hadn't found anything stable that offered him a place to live while he worked. But worst of all, he still couldn't get in touch with Julie, who had apparently moved from Ireland to England the month before he got back from Kabul.
Chance had just hitched a ride with Otis, a cattle rancher on a long haul from Texas to Washington State, when they stopped for a bite to eat in Serenity Hill. Chance was debating sticking with the cattle ranch and just leaving Montana all together when the rancher wordlessly slid a copy of the local paper across the diner booth.
“What am I looking at, Otis?”
Otis, an older gentleman of very few words, pointed a grizzled finger at an ad in the classified section. Chance read it over curiously, then did the math in his head. Factoring in even the cost of a no-tell motel room each week, he'd still be making more working for this McCoy ranch than he would as a traveling farm hand, picking up work where he could find it.
“Do you know these McCoy's, Otis? Are they good people?”
Otis nodded solemnly.
“I know Clyde McCoy through the business. He's an honest, old-fashioned gentleman rancher. He'll do right by you. But his little girl, Mathilda...Mattie, I think they call her, that girl is a damn spitfire. Watch out for her. A buddy of mine went up against her at an equipment auction and she damn near made him cry. She runs the day-to-day on McCoy, last I heard.”
Chance read over the ad a few more times.
“McCoy is a fair dealer though? And the work is good? I'm not really in a position to run from a decent job just because there is a rumor that the rancher's daughter likes to throw her weight around.”
Otis shrugged and slid a quarter across the table.
“Pay phone's back there, soldier. Give 'em a call. Just gird your loins. I've never met Mattie, but I met her mama, Esther, and if they are anything alike, she's as beautiful as she is hot-headed.”
Chance laughed and accepted the quarter with a smile. Fiery farmer's daughter or not, he hoped the interview would go well enough that he could call Serenity Hill home...
For now.
***
Chance walked up to the gate of McCoy ranch with his duffel slung over his shoulder, and his defenses up. His phone conversation with the woman who answered the phone had been brief, and terse. She'd told him to get to the ranch as soon as possible for an interview, then hung up on him. She hadn't announced herself, but he had a feeling that he'd been talking to Mattie McCoy.
It was about a half-mile walk from the gate to the ranch, and when the ranch property itself opened up in front of him, Chance couldn't believe what he saw. McCoy Ranch looked as if it had been picked up from an entirely different location and just dropped in the middle of the Montana high desert. Lush greenery spread out in every direction, surrounding a massive two-story ranch house. Goats and sheep wandered the acres of lawn in front of the house, and Chance could see a huge horse stable off to the side of the house. Groundskeepers wandered around, tending to the animals and cleaning up the sidewalks and driveways. Chance couldn't help but notice that McCoy Ranch looked more like a resort than a typical working ranch.
/> He was only a few steps from the main walk when a young woman came riding up on a gorgeous grey spotted Percheron. The horse whickered softly as the girl climbed down off its back. Chance knew he was staring at her, but he couldn't stop himself. She was tall and curvaceous, long-limbed, with an air of power that put even Chance on edge. Her long, curly hair drifted in the wind, and her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief and cleverness. From the way she carried herself, Chance knew she had to be Mattie McCoy.
“Chance Westley, I take it? You're here about the ranch hand job?”
Chance nodded nervously, any hint of verbal ability dead in his throat before it made its way to the surface. Mattie rolled her eyes impatiently.
“My daddy, Clyde, is in the stables. He's trying to rebuild a few of the troughs, and he needs help. That will be your interview. If you do the work well, and daddy likes you, you can stay. If not, you go. Got it?”
Chance tried to keep his face a blank slate, but he was starting to get annoyed. He was used to being bossed around by higher ranking officers and even the occasional upstart officer, but not a girl who was at least ten years younger than him. It was chafing at him pretty badly, but he just nodded respectfully and started for the stables.
It didn't take but a moment for Mattie to drift from his mind as the beauty of McCoy Ranch intoxicated him. Everything was so pristine, so lovingly maintained, even the chickens pecking around the grass seemed to be smiling. Chance had done his fair share of work on farms around Montana, but he'd never seen a place like McCoy.
He also couldn't help but notice that, outside of the people working on the grounds, there wasn't another single person doing ranch-related labor. For a property this size, there should have been at minimum ten other people working. That gave Chance pause, but again, he was in no position to look a gift horse in the mouth, as it were.
Chance wandered into the stables and spotted Clyde McCoy right away. He was a tall man, with the same presence as his daughter, but his face reflected years of hard work out in the sun. Unlike his daughter, his hair was blond as summer corn, despite the fact he should probably have been grey by now. It gave him a youthful spark that betrayed his real age. Chance dropped his bag at the entrance of the stables as Clyde looked up from the trough he was building, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Oh, praise the Lord. You must be my new ranch hand, for as long as you last. And just in time.”
Chance laughed awkwardly.
“For as long as I last? What does that mean, sir?”
Clyde tossed Chance a beer out of the cooler next to him, and gestured to him to join him at the trough.
“Manners. I like that. Well, kid, my daughter knows how she wants things run around her, and that's that. Not every man can handle taking orders from a girl like Mattie. Are you that kind of man, um...”
Chance took a slug of the beer before he answered, “Chance, sir. Chance Westley. I just got out of the Navy, Mr. McCoy, so I reckon I can take orders from just about anyone.”
Clyde chuckled. “I think you'll find, Chance, that the Navy doesn't have a damn thing on Mattie. And please, Clyde is good enough for me. Now, let's get these troughs built so I can officially hire you and get Mattie off my back.”
***
It was almost sunset by the time the troughs were done. Chance and Clyde were both exhausted, so rather than do any more work, Clyde decided to cut to the chase.
“Chance, I can't speak for my daughter, but as far as I'm concerned, you've more than proven your mettle. What do you say to $250 a week plus the room over the stables?”
Chance picked up his bag and glanced at the space over the stable. From outside, you couldn't see much. But he didn't need much either.
“Clyde, sir, the ad said $200 a week. I couldn't possibly take more than was offered. It wouldn't be right.”
Clyde gave Chance a solid pat on the back. “Mattie set the price, but it's my ranch, and I think you deserve the raise. So shut your pie hole and follow me upstairs. We'll get you set up so I can get some damn sleep.”
Chance wasn't about to argue with Clyde, who had clearly made up his mind already. There was a flight of stairs outside the stable that led up to the roof, where Chance would be staying. He suspected it would be a storage room with a cot, accommodations he'd experienced more than a few times during his travels. But when Clyde unlocked the door and let Chance inside, his mind was blown yet again.
The area over the stable was more of a small studio apartment, with a king-sized bed, a kitchen, and bathroom tucked away in the corner. There was even an old wood-burning stove already fighting off the chilly Montana evening with a crackling fire. A set of French doors led out to a small balcony that overlooked a lake at the back of the property. Chance's heart beat a little bit faster; he'd never lived anywhere like this in his whole adult life.
Chance turned to Clyde. “Sir...Clyde...I can't...I mean...This is far too nice for the likes of me. I don't feel comfortable living here for free.”
Clyde let out a hearty laugh. “Son, you aren't living here for free. You're doing honest work for honest pay, and the housing? Well, we'll just call that a trade-off for Mattie and what she's going to put you through. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable, and get ready for tomorrow. Bright and early.”
Chance tried to maintain his stoic demeanor, but he was so happy to have a place to sleep, to have a job, to have a reason to get up in the morning and do something with his hands. But as Clyde left him to his own devices, he couldn't help but feel a little nervous about what the morning held.
And about facing the looming threat of Mattie's tyrannical rule for real.
***
The sun was barely up the next morning when Mattie let herself into the apartment above the stables. As she approached Chance's bed with a bucket of water in her hand, she stopped short when she actually caught sight of him, bathed in the early morning sun. He wasn't wearing anything but his boxers, which highlighted the defined muscle of his stomach, chest, and hips. He was gorgeous, and for a second, Mattie forgot why she was there. But then Chance shifted in his sleep, and put a strong arm over his eyes, reminding her of her mission.
With a quick flick of her wrist, she tossed the bucket of water at Chance, and he bolted upright in a panic.
“Son of a...What in the holy hell are you doing, girl? The sun ain't even up yet!” Chance used the quilt to wipe the water out of his eyes, making it easier for him to scowl at Mattie. She tapped her riding-boot-clad foot with impatience. Her long legs looked even longer in snug jeans, and her oversized button-down already had traced of mud on it, as if she'd been up for hours. Her return scowl outpaced Chance's by a country mile.
“The sun has been up for an hour, and the horses need to be fed. There is also a fence on the far end of the property that needs to be mended and a tractor with a busted tire. If you're not up before the roosters, you're no good to me.”
Chance threw the quilt off the bed and stalked over to his clothes. Mattie glared at him with a watchful eye the whole time, attempting to keep her angry stare in place, but fully aware that she wanted to ogle his god-like body. With his jeans and shirt in hand, Chance turned and shook his head at Mattie.
“Well? Are you going to watch me get dressed, too, or can I do that without supervision, Miss McCoy?”
Mattie caught the emphasis on her name, and she didn't appreciate it.
“Watch your tone, Westley. There are plenty of other men I could hire for this job, so don't go thinking you're special or something.”
Chance snickered, “That's not what I heard, but yeah, alright.”
Mattie didn't feel like fighting with him anymore, and she had her own work to do in the office. So she turned on her heel and headed for the stairs, but not before leaving some final instructions.
“Oh, and Westley? The stables need to be mucked out too. Preferably before riding classes this afternoon.”
Once Mattie was gone, Chance saluted her as he
would an overbearing sergeant.
What in all hell have I gotten myself into? he thought as he got dressed for the day.
***
It was barely noon before the sun was beating down on Chance so hard that he had to take off his shirt for fear of roasting alive. He'd finished cleaning out the stables and feeding the animals, so now he was “mending” the fence that Mattie had mentioned. Except it wasn't so much mending as it was rebuilding the thing from scratch. At least three hundred feet of it had been knocked clean out, most likely by a cattle stampede. That meant Chance was anchoring and rebuilding a reinforced log fence from the bottom up, and it was going to take him a week at least.
Rather than focus on the back-breaking labor, Chance kept imagining how much fun it would be to throw Mattie McCoy over his shoulder, carry her to the nearest lake, and toss her in. It was only his first day, but that girl was already a giant pain in his ass, and he expected it wasn't going to get any better. But he needed the job, and hell if he was going to give her the satisfaction of quitting. So every strike of the hammer was another satisfying exertion of the rage he felt toward Mattie and her haughty stance...her proud eyes...her full, pouting lips...