This is the first chapter of a longer work of fiction. All characters herein are over the age of 18.
Somewhere In The Great Plains
Most folks think ranch life is all cowboy hats, “Yee haw,” and rodeos – it’s not. Operating any ranch, even a smaller, family spread like ours is work, and a lot of it. My parents knew this when they decided to take out a loan to build our home and operate the four-hundred-acre stretch of land next to my uncle Rob’s place along Beaver Creek. My folks, Ben and Abby McKenzie, knew they were taking a huge risk, but they were both determined to make it work, and they did just that.
Dad and Uncle Rob had inherited the land from his father, my Grandpa Bill, when he passed, thirteen years ago. Mom and Dad had other options, but Dad had grown up on this land and couldn’t bring himself to let go of it. Mom was raised on a ranch herself, so they both knew what they were getting into when they made the decision to build the house and all the outbuildings to make this our home.
The plan was for Dad and Uncle Rob to run their cattle together on several adjacent sections of land that they leased during the summers while they helped each other hay the bottom land they owned individually along the creek. Then, each fall, they would bring the cattle in off the lease, and each would winter their own herd on their own farmland until calving was finished in early spring. For ten years everything went well until Dad was killed in a freak accident three years ago.
I was sixteen when it happened. We were in the corral, separating the yearling steers for shipping, when Dad was unexpectedly hooked by Gus, the longhorn steer he had raised for his horns. We always brought Gus into the corral when we were separating cattle because he seemed to have a calming effect on the herd. Dad made the mistake of coming up alongside Gus from the rear, which caused the longhorn to turn his head and pin him against the fence. His horn tore into Dad’s midsection, causing internal bleeding and organ damage.
I didn’t realize how bad it was until I was pushing the cattle to the far side of the pen with my older cousin, Myles, Uncle Rob and Aunt Beth’s son, while Uncle Rob was helping Dad get outside the gate. Dad went down, and Uncle Rob called out to me to come help him carry Dad the rest of the way. He hollered for Myles to go get Mom and Aunt Beth, who were back at the house getting lunch ready. Uncle Rob then pulled out his cell phone and called 911 and Dad started spitting up blood. That’s when I got scared.
Dad died on the way to the hospital.
Grief is a horrible thing. It’s hard, cold, and completely uncaring. It’s a horrible emotion to feel, but it’s even worse when you watch it tear through the hearts of the ones you love. Guilt on top of grief is cruel. I don’t know why I felt guilty. I know there was nothing I could have done. I was across the corral doing what I was supposed to do, but the idea of not being there for Dad when it happened stayed with me for quite some time.
Watching Mom and Olivia, my younger sister, go through their own crushing pain added to my sense of ineptitude. My aunt and uncle stepped in, along with a few folks from the community, and helped us find our way through those first few months of darkness and despair. They were the first blessings to find their way to us through the darkness. The second was when the market picked up and the yearlings sold for a great price. We knew that we’d be okay financially for at least another year. We had time to catch our breath and to deal with the pain.
Three months after the funeral, Mom and Uncle Rob started talking about Mom selling the place, either to him or putting it on the market. I don’t know if it was my sense of guilt, or my sense of commitment to my parent’s dream, but I got angry. I wouldn’t have it. Looking back, I regret that I acted the way I did, yelling and demanding that they give us a chance to at least get our feet under us and try to give it a go before giving up. I may have actually pounded the table, I can’t recall, but I do remember the surprised look in both their eyes when I interrupted them and raised my objections.
I gave them hell for being so quick to give up on my father’s dream. I reminded Mom that it was her dream too, and asked her how she thought Dad would feel about her stepping away from this home that they had both dreamt about and then built together. I reminded them that I had a year and a half of high school left, but had great grades and knew the school would cut me a break this year and allow me to work the ranch as part of their senior work-study program the next. Both Dad and Mom had wanted me to go on to college, and I would, but locally and only after we had stabilized the ranch.
I must have said something right, because by the time I was done, a look came into Mom’s eyes that told me that, though she still had her reservations, she might be willing to try.
Mom looked at Uncle Rob, who was quietly tapping the tip of his middle finger on the table as he thought. He and Dad had both acquired the habit of tapping their fingers while considering difficult situations from their father, my grandpa Bill. Like grandpa Bill, both men had dark brown hair, a square jaw and were, what I think most folks would call good looking. “I can talk to Beth,” he said quietly. “There ain’t gonna be one easy thing about this, but neither of us wants to see you lose this place.”
Mom leveled her pretty, Nordic green eyes at me. “We’re setting a limit on how much loss we can handle if we do this, Rand. The only thing your dad loved more than this place was you and Liv, and I’m not going to let either of you be hurt by trying to make a go of it here without him only to have it all come undone.” Rand was short for Randall and Liv was what we all called my sister, Olivia.
Uncle Rob looked me straight in the eye and, without blinking once, told me, “This is a man’s job that you’re asking to take on, Rand. Now your dad taught you well, and I’m here to help you learn the rest, but, sooner or later, a man’s got to learn to stand on his own two feet. You hear what I’m saying? If you’re going to step into this thing, you’re gonna need to do it with both feet. Ain’t no way it’s gonna work unless you do, and even then, it’s gonna be a long shot.”
I didn’t blink either, though truth be told, a chill went through me that almost paralyzed me. I did manage to find my voice though and pushed a soft, “Yessir,” past my lips.
Mom’s head lowered toward the table as she shouldered her own part of the agreement. We talked a bit more, making plans for mending some fences the next day in the bottom pastures, then Uncle Rob said his goodbyes. We stepped out on the front porch and waved as he drove away. I realized then, as I stood there with my arm around Mom, that things suddenly felt different.
Ranch life is often unpredictable but it also has a rhythm. Each year is an annual cycle of events that are dictated by the seasons, but ultimately controlled by weather and luck. Fortunately for us, both were on our side that first year. We struggled our way out of that dark time and start a slow walk toward the light.
I graduated, not with honors as I had hoped, but then, academic honors don’t feed cattle near as well as the hay that I threw at them over the course of those first two winters. It wasn’t easy of course, in ranch life it never is, but the rewards are well worth the effort and sacrifice. Family, home, a life outdoors, land, animals, crops and a profound sense of belonging and accomplishment, are just a few. These things grounded me, anchored me in an understanding of who, and where, I was meant to be.
Then, shit started to happen.
Seems like weather is always the first thing to change. The summer after graduation was hot and dry and Beaver Creek was running low. We still had to irrigate though. The first cutting of alfalfa was stacked, so Mom and I were out moving irrigation pipe and doing maintenance on the pump. Liv arrived around noon with Jake, our border collie, and brought us our lunch. We were all shaded up under the cottonwoods.
“The latches on some of those fittings got pretty banged up somehow,” Mom mentioned as she chewed her sandwich. “Got a few weird leaks in some too, like they’ve been worked too hard. Gonna cost a bit to get’em fixed. Some flat need replacing.”
I looked across the blanket that Liv had spread on the ground. Mom sat with her back pressed on the log behind her. Her pretty, heart-shaped face was all business as she focused her green eyes on her next bite of sandwich. She had removed her wide-brimmed hat, and errant strands of light strawberry blonde hair had come loose from her ponytail and teased her high, sun-kissed cheekbones. She was sweaty and tired from our busy morning but her sturdy frame belied that.
She wasn’t a big woman, but she wasn’t delicate either. At thirty-nine years-old, birthing and raising two kids, and an active ranch life had made her solid and strong. I admired her strength and appreciated her earthy beauty. Her shoulders were well-toned, and her full breasts were always right there, even when she wore a loose-fitting t-shirt like the soiled and sweaty one that she had on today. Her waist had thickened from work and maturity, but it still flowed smoothly down to her well-formed hips. I’d never say it to anyone, and was equally reluctant to admit it to myself, but Mom still filled out her jeans exceptionally well.
It had not been lost on me that she was a man’s woman who had been without her man these last three years. My heart hurt to think of her that way, but whenever I began to feel sorry for her, all I had to do was see her as I did today to realize how well she got on despite her husband being gone. Still, there were quiet moments with us at home, and still more when she was in the solitude of their, now her, bedroom, when I’m sure the ache was unavoidable.
But there would be none of that today. She finished her sandwich, brushed her hands over her jeans and signaled that she was ready to get back to work. “What’s next boss?” She knew just as well as I did, that we had a few more lengths of pipe to lay before we turned our attention to the pump. I answered anyway, more to let Liv know what was on our schedule while she was tending to her chores back at the house.
I ran through the plan for my younger sister and Mom followed up. “We should finish around 4:00 when it’s good and hot. Why don’t you come back with our suits and we can all take a dip to cool off?”
“Sure, sounds good,” Liv chirped as she gathered up the blanket and nabbed the plastic baggies that had drifted to the side. “C’mon, Jake!” she coaxed the dog, who leapt to his feet and jumped into the UTV to leave with her.
Liv and Jake roared away toward the gate as Mom chuckled and picked up a pair of couplers. “The only place that dog would rather be than beside her in that outfit is on the heels of a stubborn heifer.”
“You’re right on that one,” I said as I hoisted a length of aluminum pipe on my shoulder and started toward the spot we’d left off.
The afternoon was a tough one. Mom noted more damaged couplers as we worked, and when we started up the pump, it appeared to have some seals going out. I did my best to snug the bolts up, but knew I could only tighten them so much before I might cause bigger problems. I could see the dollar signs rolling through Mom’s eyes. At one point she seemed to give in to her worry. “Dammit! Why does everything have to go out at once?” she complained. Complaining wasn’t normally her way. I could tell she was feeling the heat and the stress so I reached for her hand.
I took her a couple steps away from the pump, as if distance might ease some of the immediate pressure she felt. I put both hands on her shoulders and gave her my most reassuring look. “We’ll deal with it,” I said. “It’s running good enough for now and it ain’t nothing we can’t fix when it needs it, okay?”
Mom nodded, set her jaw and squared her shoulders like I’d seen her do hundreds of times before, even before Dad passed. All I could think of to do was what he had done when that happened. I pulled her to my chest and wrapped my arms around her, as if guarding her from all the worry that was descending on her.
She stiffened, then I felt her arms slide around my mid-back and her hands reach up toward my shoulder blades. She seemed to melt against me, her breasts pressing more firmly into my chest than they ever had before for a moment. We both seemed to melt into each other until she stiffened again and pulled back a bit, making the hug more “motherly.” We both knew what had just happened, but, outside of her slight twinge and the rapid series of thuds that pounded in my heart, neither of us let on.
“I should text Liv, she’s late,” I mumbled into the awkward silence. Mom slipped her arms back down to her sides and nodded.
Liv had been gone longer than I’d expected. I typed in, where are you and was about to hit send when I heard the unsteady drone of the UTV coming back down the fence line. We both welcomed her and Jake back to the shady grove of trees along the creek. Liv reached back into the cooler in the back seat and handed us both a cold sport drink to quench our thirst. “I see you got it up and running.” She gave a quick glance toward the pump.
“Not without some bubble gum and duct tape,” quipped Mom. “We’ll be ordering parts here before too long. Did you bring our suits?”
Liv reached into the duffle back next to the cooler and removed three towels. She muttered something, then turned back around with wide eyes. “I know I packed them… I put them right there on the table and grabbed the towels and… and… oh, shit!”
A comical mix of expressions leapt onto Mom’s face. Frustration, amusement and disbelief all took turns crossing her sun-tinged features. Mom had obviously been looking forward to a refreshing dip in the swimming hole and Liv knew she was about to get reprimanded for her forgetfulness.
“I’m sorry!” she whined, her voice ending in a high-pitched squeak.
Mom huffed and rolled her eyes. “Olivia Jean, I swear, I should have told Jake to do it instead of you.” She shook her head, then looked longingly back at the flowing stream. “You know what? Screw it. Shuck down to your underwear kids. Let’s go. It’s too friggin’ hot to be this close to this crick and not be in it.”
Liv and I both paused, glancing at each other first, then back to Mom, then back at each other.
Mom sighed, “C’mon now, you’re both full grown, and it’s blazing hot out here. I’ve been waiting all day for a cool dip and I’m not going to miss out because my daughter had a brain fart. Our underwear is essentially the same thing. You all can stand here and bake, but I’m going in. Come on!”
Liv held her ground. “Mom, um, I don’t, I mean, I’m not wearing…” She fluttered her hands across her chest.
Mom pressed her lips together, “Hmm, well, wear your t-shirt then, here let me tie it up for you so it doesn’t get all floppy when it gets wet.” She pulled at the hem of Liv’s shirt and knotted it in the back, creating a tight, revealing half-shirt for my sister. I’m not much for bra sizes, but compared to Mom’s grapefruits, Liv has some decent-sized oranges.
“You are wearing panties, aren’t you?” Mom asked, half serious.
Liv blushed. “Of course!”
“Alright then, you can take it from here,” Mom huffed as she walked over to the edge of the creek. She pulled her sweaty t-shirt off as she walked, revealing a sturdy white bra underneath. She stopped at the edge of the creek, kicked off her shoes, peeled her socks off and reached for her belt before she caught me watching.
“Never known you to be afraid of a little water, mister.” She gave me a questioning look before shucking her jeans down past her knees and did a little stomp dance out of them. Her panties were as sensible as her bra, white briefs with no frill of any kind to them. They had been pulled down a bit when Mom pulled…
