Back at the Ranch (closed)

[salty_sailor]

The shovel full of yellow mud landed on top of the coffin lid with a wet thump, resounding hollowly and then the thick clay began oozing across the pine boards, settling into a gelatinous puddle. Squelching boots and shussh of shovels in wet soil contributed to the sound of water hammering the ground around them an bouncing off umbrellas. Several more lumps of mud landed atop the first as more hands set about filling the hole.

Hank found it somehow fitting as he helped to cover up Clay with shovel-fulls of his namesake. Someone had had the foresight to conjure the earth on the old bastard's name day and at his burial. Dust to dust, right? Hank smiled ruefully, rain dripping off the brim of his hat, falling past his eyes, onto his shoulders and back.

Phyllis, the widow, had done the honorable, staying stoic and silent all throughout the proceedings. Hank respected her for it. She went through so much trouble in order to not be any fuss for anybody else. She was a good woman, friend to Hank's daddy before he had passed on, god rest his soul. If he hadn't of stopped her, she would have been out in the high country rain digging the hole herself. She didn't even blink or let her lip quiver when they'd said the words. She kept her face tranquil throughout. In fact, Hank wouldn't be surprised if Clay's passing came as a relief to her. He'd been sick, real sick lately and Phyllis had already begun the process of getting on. It was Hank who'd made the calls, gotten the family together, driving and riding down from their little corner of Montana that cool, late summer day. If she'd had her way it probably would have been just the three of them there that day, Clay and Phyllis and Hank. It had been the three of them for so long. Yep, she was a good woman.

Like most folks around these parts she just wanted to be left to herself. She'd dig her own grave someday, Hank was sure of it. Their family had come to the valley later than his, but they'd found it much the same. Likewise her family had come here much earlier than some. And likely they thought the same thing of newcomers as he did: upstarts. So it was that Phyllis and Hank both held their tongue and gritted their teeth as Sally and her husband pulled in. The husband, well, he about typified upstarts...if you looked 'em up in a dictionary, there'd be his photo.

Hank had been splitting wood, sending shards of alder spinning away with each stroke of the axe when they'd come by, horse trailer in tow. The trailer came as a bit of a surprise and Hank had done what he could to see they were appropriately stabled. Turns out, Sally and her man were planning to stay a while. Turns out Phyllis needed some looking after. Turns out that Phyllis had other notions about the concept.

As if it wasn't hassle enough to put a husband in the ground, here was Sally and the upstart telling Phyllis they were going to take care of things from here on out. Sufficed to say, that went over just swell. It was going to be an interesting season around the ranch.

When there was a mound of earth piled up, down by the wash, a carved stone marking it's head, Hank finally got around to saying goodby to Clay. It was nothing much, but it was enough in his way. He figured what better way to keep a man in your thoughts than to keep on after him and maintain what he helped build. They would all go inside, they'd huddle around the woodstove, trying to dry out their sodden clothes. There would be beer and crying. There would be stories and songs. Folks would still be talking about the second great war, and they'd sit around listening to the fire crackling.

After it all wound down and some light started to fade from the sky, Hank went out to the barn and saddled up his mount. He checked the other horses before he lead his own out into the dusk. He hardly had to look around him at all as the quarterhorse knew the path home as well as he did. Together they wound down the hill to the ancient cabin set among cottonwoods. Taking the saddle from his animal he checked the hay and went inside to light his own fire, letting the pieces fall where they may.

 

[heartofcourage]

Watching the earth pile up on her father's coffin was almost surreal. Sally had no idea that her father had been so sick. In fact, she had no idea of half the things that had gone on at the ranch since she'd been gone. She had wanted it that way for so long. Montana wasn't the place for her, even though she'd been born and raised there. She had hightailed it to Los Angeles the first chance that she got.

Still, there was still so much familiar there in the wilds of Montana. The smell of the grass as the rain pounded around those gathered for the funeral. The mountains off in the distance, shining purple in the dull light of day. The barn cats lazing about under the stable roof as the horses pawed impatiently at the hay in their stalls. And Hank...

Part of the reason she had left was the damned cowboy had broken her heart. He had no right to still look so handsome in his cowboy hat with that lazy smile on his lips. She gasped as her husband wrapped his hand around hers, tugging her along with the others back towards the ranch house as the last shovel of dirt was placed.

"Goodbye, Daddy." Sally said softly as she reluctantly followed Adam back with the rest of the mourners.

Sally moved past her mother, sighing as she climbed the steep stairs that led to her room. Adam stayed behind to make small talk with the others. She only wanted to change into a fresh set of dry clothing and sleep the rest of the day away. Adam had always been a dreamer and a schemer. She had met him in college as she studying animal science. He was a pre-law student that had fed right into her need for love and acceptance. He was now a corporate lawyer with a list of clients a mile long and she had a vet practice that catered to horses and cattle.

Perhaps that's why she had thought it would be easier on every one if she took over the ranch for her mother. She hadn't expected the fight that had occurred. Her mother was a proud woman and stubborn as the day was long. In fact, they hadn't spoken since the night she had arrived.

Sally pushed open the door to her room and closed it gently behind her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she kicked off the black shoes that were soaked through. Her father would have laughed at the black dress that she'd worn for his funeral.

"What the hell do you need a dress like that for? It ain't got no place on a ranch like this."

She could hear his voice clearly in her head and that was when the tears started. She couldn't believe that her father was gone. And when had been the last time she saw him? Her wedding? Before that? It had been far too long. She lay back on the bed with a long sigh, tears streaming down her cheeks as her cornflower yellow hair pooled around her head. She closed her blue eyes tightly and silently mourned for the man that she had worked so hard to please.

 

[salty_sailor]

Hank woke from a dead sleep. His mind was swimming a little. As of through a gauze he recollected the events of the previous day. The arrival of Sally and her beau. The funeral. Clay getting covered up. Phyllis. Brave Phyllis. The small party afterwards. Then the long quiet evening alone. Emphasis on long and quiet; with no other company than...well, he glanced at the empty bottle of rye laying on it's side on the rough table.

He sat up, wearing shorts and a white t-shirt and put his feet to the floor, perching on the edge of his narrow mattress. He wasn't sure what had pulled him from his sleep, until he looked around, still a little groggy, and saw Rascal sitting back on his haunches and staring up at the doorknob. Rascal gave a low huff handed his breath and turned to look back over his shoulder at Hank, as if asking permission to go out.

Then Hank heard what Rascal was so clearly indicating: a distant cry of a wolf creeping down out of the Breaks. Hank got up to open the door. He glanced up and the rifle hanging above the door, he thought about getting pants on and following the dog out. But frankly he was just too damned tired. Sleep. He wanted nothing more than to lay back down on his thin slab. And Rascal could certainly take care of himself. Hell, the big dog likely had a she-wolf somewhere in his ancestry anyway, and not too long in the past if he had to guess.

Wolves. He stood the bottle up in the sink under the hand pump and sat at the table. Wolves. The farm he could manage. Wolves among the sheep he could deal with too. But wolves in the big house, that would take some careful thought.

Sally he knew, loved even, in his own way. Sally he could trust. But her man, he had some proving to do. He didn't trust just anyone rolling in from the big city and all I a sudden rearranging the place to his way of thinking. Hank was getting too old for that nonsense, and too old to be changing everything up.

"It's not like I haven't been doing this for half of forever..." He muttered to himself as he got up, pushing on the table with his gnarled hands, and turning back towards the bed in the corner. He pulled the scratchy blankets around his wide shoulders in an effort to drive off the midnight chill in the room, and he rolled to face the blank wall, closing his eyes.

 

[heartofcourage]

Before dawn, Sally rolled from bed and stretched. She glanced over her shoulder at her husband still slumbering under the covers. He had been a city boy his entire life and waking up before dawn was something that he never did unless a client needed him. It had been part of her life from the time she was old enough to help with chores around the farm.

A quick shower later, Sally pulled on a white undershirt, a long sleeved flannel shirt, a part of dark denim jeans and her old worn cowboy boots. She pulled her blonde hair back into a simple ponytail as she descended the stairs to the sounds of pots and pans banging around. She walked through the dining room and saw her mother, already dressed, with bacon cooking on the stove.

"How can I help, Mama?" Sally asked softly as Phyllis looked up from her task for a long moment and mother and daughter shared a silent stare as they both tried to size each other up.

"Get some eggs going. The boys will be hungry this morning." Phyllis finally said as she turned back to the stove and started heating up a pan for pancakes.

Sally nodded and pulled a tray of eggs from the fridge, cracking them on an old bowl to scramble them. They fed the workers on the farm every single morning. It was simply part of the deal. Three square meals a day in exchange for loyal hard work. Her father was a firm believer that his men were members of the family, like the sons that he'd never had. Hank was chief among them.

"Mama, I'm sure that Daddy wouldn't want you working yourself so hard." Sally ventured, glancing over her shoulder at her mother as she paused in her work and let out a long, frustrated sigh.

"Sally Virginia, I ain't going over this with you again. Hank and I can run this farm just fine without your Daddy around." Phyllis practically growled at her daughter, so tired of this conversation.

"Mama, as much as you love Hank, the man can barely take care of himself let alone a farm." Sally insisted, gasping as she turned around to cook the eggs over the stove when she was met with a firm slap across the cheek.

Phyllis glared at her only child, her cheeks bright red and her eyes blazing. "You ain't ever going to talk about Hank like that again. Understand?"

Sally, too shocked to do much more then stare at her mother, nodded. She was stunned, her cheek aching, as her mother pushed past her to cool off. Her mother was a proud woman and that farm was her life. All Sally wanted to do was make life a little easier, but of course things simply couldn't be easy there.

 

[salty_sailor]

Hank got down from his horse and stood in the barnyard. His back ramrod straight, as if still in the infantry. He checked the cinch strap and went around stooping to inspect all four hooves. He stood up again, stretching out his back and thighs and looking up to the big farmhouse, from which the smell of bacon drifted on the breeze. He could imagine the long table in the dining room already starting to crowd up as everyone finished their morning chores.

After a bit of coffee from the spirit stove in his cabin, Hank had set off to run the fence lines, a warm thermos in his lap and bright sun laying across his shoulders. Now that the summer herds were back from the high country, not only would there be more men about the place, but more cattle too. And a feisty cow had no end of creativity when it came to getting through a fence and into an adjacent pasture, undoing the work of the past month, inspecting and reinforcing weak points. And then there were the complaints he'd face of his cows eating up his neighbors forage...

Hank shook his head and smiled a little ruefully. It was a life. But now his stomach was growling, so he left the horse tied to the rail outside, and walked up the incline to the house, Rascal following at his heals.

When he stepped through the door to the kitchen, he could immediately sense the chilly atmosphere. Evidently breakfast would not be the cheerful affair it so often was. Phyllis however wore her ever-present smile, even if it did look a little forced. So Hank returned it in kind, and nodded a greeting to Sally and the other wives. As always they had outdone themselves with the sheer volume and variety of food. And as always, it would all disappear in short order. He shook hands and patted backs, raising small clouds of dust that hung in the air over stained stetsons, adding to the general confusion of voices and the clatter of scuffed boots on worn floorboards.

 

[heartofcourage]

Sally didn't take her seat at the table until Adam had appeared. He was freshly showered, looking completely out of place in his collared polo shirt and khaki pants. Still, she kissed his cheek gently as she sat beside him, giving him a small smile. She was back to silence with her mother, unsure of what to even say at this point that would smooth the situation over.

Then came Hank. He walked in as if he owned the place, shaking hands like the best politician in the county. If only there were a baby or two around, he could kiss them and win the election. She stared at him for a long moment, only lowering her gaze when he turned and nodded at her. It had been a long time since they had been an item and even longer since she decided that she could never forgive him for what had happened...

"Alright, everyone. Get in your seats." Phyllis announced, taking the seat to the right of the head, the seat that was normally reserved for Clay. "Hank. I think you know that he would want you to have his seat. And to lead us in grace."

Sally clenched her teeth together painfully at those words. How dare her take her father's spot, even if her mother had been the one to suggest it. He had no right to that chair or that farm.

 

[salty_sailor]

Hank was shaking his head as he pulled Phyllis's empty plate into the place ordinarily reserved for Clay. Next he slid Phyllis into the place of honor, half lifting, half sliding her chair with her in it to the spot at the head of the table.

"I was Clay's right hand man, and I'll be yours too, but I'll be damned if I'm going to step into the big man's shoes before he's even been twenty four hours in the ground. For that matter, I won't ever fill his shoes."

While this was happening, the last few stragglers were streaming in from where they'd been shaving or polishing up before breakfast down at the bunkhouse. Oddly though, the room had gone relatively quiet as this scene unfolded.

A chair rattled up behind Hank, but before he settled into it, he raised a brimming mug of coffee over his head and proposed a bit of a toast in leu of grace. He went on to thank not only the good lord, but Clay too, for his hard work, for his legacy and for the life he'd carved out of the land for each and every one of them.

They settled into their chairs and began passing around platters of ham and eggs and fried pepper, potatoes and gravy. The coffee pot made it's round too. And as everyone one was tucking in, Hank concluded with a promise to Clay and to Phyllis and to all of them, that he would work to see that as little as possible changed in the coming months and years. His eyes swept up and down the long table, finally settling on Sally. He could practically feel her eyes burning into him. 'Well, he thought, perhaps one thing would change. In a big way.'

 

[heartofcourage]

Sally was fairly vibrating in anger even as Hank moved her mother into the spot that was her father's. Why was her mother so upset with her yet whatever Hank said was perfectly fine? She couldn't even suggest anything without her mother getting in a huff or treating her like she was a small child.

As the food was passed to her, she could barely make herself take any. Her plate was pitifully under filled and she made no effort to even touch her fork. Her appetite was gone the moment that her mother slapped her in the kitchen for daring to suggest that anything was wrong with her precious Hank.

She felt a set of eyes settle on her and she glanced up, locking eyes with the man that she had never wanted to see again. She had hoped that perhaps he would have moved on, gone to another farm in another state, but it seemed that he had stayed like a tick who was buried deep on a hound.

She let out a sigh and pushed herself away from the table, stalking from the dining room and out into the crisp morning. She needed to be far away from him, where she could gather her thoughts without eyes on her. Perhaps then she could finally get her mother's approval after so many years of searching.

 

[salty_sailor]

Sally spent much of breakfast chasing a pitiful pile of eggs round and round her plate. Hank might not have noted it otherwise, afterall the room was teeming with other people, many of them seeming to vie for his attention. But Sally, she was noticeable in her sullenness, and in her active role in pointedly avoiding conversation or the general cheerfulness of the breakfast. While others were catching up with old friends that hadn't been down from the high country in a few months, Sally was methodically mincing up sausage and generally turning her plate into rubble of a breakfast gone terribly wrong.

What drew his eyes to her, was the fact that she couldn't keep hers off him. It seemed that every time he looked up, his eyes were drawn down the board to meet her smoldering gaze. And Sally would pointedly smash something else on her plate. Hank would calmly sip his coffee, and try not to imagine what he might have done in the past to wound her so tragically that she was holding such a grudge. But for the life of him he couldn't imagine what she might be harboring. He could practically see smoke curling out of her ears.

So it came as a relief somehow when she finally rose from the table and showed herself out. Though it seemed more as though she was storming out. The dogs on the porch whimpered and sprang from her path as the wide planks of the stoop shuddered under her boots. Hank swallowed hard as the screen door slammed and made a game effort at appearing genial despite the strangeness of the encounter, or passive aggressive angst that Sally had just cast his direction. He passed a jar of maple syrup down the table, and tried not to replay again and again in his mind the image of Sally's back trudging out the back door and disappearing down the steps.

 

[heartofcourage]

Sally beat a path across the dusty yard, her anger coloring her vision red as she slipped into the barn. The lazy cats scattered much as she dogs had as she kicked a stall door, letting out a growl of frustration as she sank onto a prickly bail of hay. Her head immediately hung into her hands and she let out a long sigh.

Things were never easy here. Even when she was a little girl, her father rarely told her how much he loved her or how proud he was of her achievements. It didn't matter if she won at the state fair with a prized heifer. It didn't matter if she gain acclaim as a barrel racer. It didn't matter if she helped every single day there on the farm. He never said anything...

Maybe that's why she had fallen for Adam. He told her that she was pretty. He made her smile and fought had to get her attention. He had made her feel like the most special woman in the world when their marriage first started. Then...the other women had started appearing. Three affairs that she knew about. One that she had caught him red handed during. She had forced him to go to therapy, but she couldn't trust him anymore. He swore he would stop, but she had her doubts.

Then there was Hank. The one man that she had always wanted. The man who had cruelly broken her heart and told her that what she felt was nothing but a little girl's fantasy. The night was still a fresh wound on her heart made all the most painful by her father's death.

"Oh, Daddy..." Sally murmured as the hot tears started again, the mournful sobs damped by the sounds of the horses moving restlessly in the stalls around her.

 

[salty_sailor]

Breakfast went on and on, and Hank continued the small talk of the weather, the pastures in the high country the fleece they could expect come spring. For politeness sake he stayed around the table, sipping at his coffee long after he'd emptied his plate of it's piled eggs and ham. The slanting light was catching dust motes on the little air circulations in the room and the mass of people were stirring little vortices. Hank watched these absently, nodding occasionally at what seemed appropriate points in the small conversations he carried on.

To those who knew him well however, it likely seemed obvious that he was ready to get up and be out the door. He liked his hands, and the companionship they provided at the end of a long day on trail, or when pulling fences all day, but he was a man of few words generally and the buzz of confined humanity in the large kitchen had him itching to go.

When Phyllis topped up his mug again he picked it up from the table and pushed his chair back from the table. Nodding around the room he slowly got to his feet. Suddenly it seemed as though many of the crew were done with their meals and all had business to be about. Hank tried to let them know that he didn't begrudge them finishing up and that he had no wish to rush them. Even so there was almost no one sitting any longer by the time he plucked his hat from it's hook near the cookstove and ran his fingers along the brim, turning back to bid them all good day.

Outside, leaning against the porch rail in typical fashion, Hank doled out chores to those who were idle and looking for the next project. His mug was a maestro's baton as he waved and pointed and in ones and threes the men all disappeared and spread out over the ranch. Hank shifted up onto his feet and turned towards the big barn, trailing a couple hands who were bound to get their mounts. He walked slowly, his mind ticking over.

 

[heartofcourage]

Once Sally had calmed, she tipped her head back against the stall of the barn. The barn hadn't changed in all of the years that she'd been alive. It was dusty, dirty, all hallmarks of a working ranch. It smelled like horses and sweat and cats and dogs roamed through in an almost never ending parade. It was comforting, she thought as she heard men moving her way.

She let out as sigh as she got to her feet and entered into the foreman's office to be alone. She didn't want to but she needed her solitude. She didn't want to think about the outside world or her father's death or her failing marriage. Everything was falling apart and it had been her fault, she thought to herself as she sat down in the old rickety chair that was a few years past serviceable.

 

[salty_sailor]

In the barn, Hank helped a couple of the hands to saddle up their mounts. Not that they needed the help, nor did it demonstrate a lack of trust on his part. More, it was the camaraderie of shared work Their bits held loosely in their jaws, the horses stamped and snickered as their cinch straps went through a final check. The cowboys led the Morgans outside and talked to them in quiet voices before stepping into a stirrup and mounting up.

Hank stands in the doorway, hands on his hips, watching them disappear down the slope. He turns then and walks to his office door, intent on doing a little organizing before heading out to be about his own chores.

 

[heartofcourage]

Sally glanced up as the door to the office opened after she had barely settled into the office chair. She let out a long sigh as she saw Hank illuminated in the doorway, their eyes locking. In that moment, she felt deflated. All of her previous anger had melted away and she felt like a shell of her former self. There was no fight left in her and she was sure that he could see that as they squared off.

"What are you doing here, Hank?" She asked as she settled back in the desk chair, crossing her arms in front of her in a defensive gesture.

 

[salty_sailor]

Hank stood frozen in the doorway, and tried to casually lean his shoulder against the jamb. He fought the urge to work his jaw and stare as he looked at her behind the desk. There was a moment of silence that passed between them, swallowed them, stirred only by stirrings of an equine nature from the stall next door, and dust motes floating in the low shafts of sunlight.

"I could ask you the same thing Sally...this is my office after all. You need to get out of the house for a while?"

He continued to look at her, sitting behind his desk, and he wondered what her response might be, or if she would just tear out of there like she had in any of their previous encounters over the last few days. He wondered though...it seemed to him that some of the fight had gone out of her.