Winter came. Clay was icy polite and avoided her for most of the late fall and even into December, but then he relented, a little. The whole ranch crew was busy emptying out the old calving shed and turning it into an indoor arena, as well as putting new drywall in the ancient but structurally-sound bunkhouses. The indoor arena was a much needed tool which would enable Clay to take on more training horses during the long, snow-filled months.
Lenora’s plan revolved around turning the two bunkhouses into swanky private quarters for guests. Each room would have massive beds, antique light fixtures, lush sheepskin rugs, and fireplaces. The highlight of each bunkhouse was windows overlooking the beautiful pastures. The bunkhouses were the perfect buildings to convert into guest quarters since they sat far away from the main barns and the ranch house. The buildings were partially hidden by a small rise.
***
One evening Lenora went to secretly watch Clay start the three year old horses under saddle. She was lurking in the barn next to the arena. It was just a week before Christmas, and she shivered in the lightly falling snow.
“I know you’re there,” Clay said. “So you might as well come out.”
She felt silly as she stepped into the arena. He sat on a lovely gray filly that had a future in the show ring.
“The lady who owns her is looking to turn this girl into a show jumper,” Clay said. “And I don’t know the first thing about that. You want to ride her?”
“Yes, I would,” Lenora said.
He dismounted gracefully. He wore a fleece hat and thick flannel shirt, and he looked tired.
Their hands brushed as he handed her the reins, but she was almost immune to the electricity she still felt.
“She’s sensitive. Don’t rush her,” Clay instructed
Lenora liked the way the filly felt beneath her. She asked the horse to trot. The little horse accepted the bit graciously and was quick to move off of Lenora’s leg as well. She eased the mare into a canter and felt herself smile at the eagerness of the horse to comply. After a few circles and changes of direction they came to a stop in front of Clay.
“Can we put my saddle on her next time?” Lenora said. “And maybe set up a few poles for her to trot over?”
“You going to help me with her?” he said.
“Yes. If you’ll let me,” Lenora replied.
He kicked the sand footing in the arena before looking up at Lenora where she sat on the gray mare. His face was guarded but his eyes soft.
Over the course of the next week Lenora helped Clay with the filly. She found herself watching him on the horses hungrily; there was no other way to explain it. He was graceful on their backs and gentle on the ground, never losing his patients when they were difficult to handle and argued with his every request.
Lenora began to get the idea that he had moved on. Of course, he was polite, kind, even gentle with her. Yet some of the passion she had felt between them seemed to have melted away. This put a sliver of ice through her heart, but it also gave her some small comfort. All was becoming right and sane in her world again. She could deal with her own ragged emotions, but seeing him angry and hurt had made her own pain so much worse. Plus, with all that needed to be done to get the ranch ready for the first guests, she really had no time to spare. She had to force herself to take time out to enjoy the mountains and get Major the exercise he needed. She assured herself that she had made the right decision on their drive home from airport.
One morning as she came in from a brisk canter on her horse, she noticed a shiny dually and horse trailer in the drive. She heard Clay in the arena, and when she glanced inside he was showing a lovely blond woman the gray filly. Lenora untacked Major and curried out the saddle marks, all the while watching the blond faun all over Clay. What woman would not, she reasoned. He looked the part with his worn jeans covered by tan chaps, thick jacket, scuffed boots and carefully tied wild rag. His intense, sexy eyes were the final touch.
Major brought her back from her angry spying with a sharp swish of his tail.
“Sorry boy,” Lenora said. She realized too late that she had been applying all her pent-up fervor to brushing his side.
Thankfully, the full-figured blonde was climbing into her truck. Lenora found herself looking down at her own body. What had Clay even seen in her anyway? Considering how jealous she was because a woman was simply talking to Clay, it was probably better that they just stayed friends. This way was best; she could stay at the ranch and have a family and home. But her mind kept bringing up the image of Clay that night in the cave. She saw him gently peeling her out of her wet clothes and then kissing her, his hands running the length of her body. She shivered, the memory so intense that she felt her whole body ache to be next to him. She wanted to feel his skin on hers. She realized she had to stop the thought. Perhaps one day she would be able to control these feelings and see him as a very good friend. She loved working the horses with him; in fact, she found herself looking forward to it all through the day. Despite the shot of electricity when their hands accidentally touched, she felt more comfortable around him now that sex was no longer in the equation. In a few more months, she tried to assure herself, it would almost be like it had never happened— almost.
That is one thing she had decided while away from the ranch: this was home now, and this was her family. It was sad that it had taken her this long to find a family, but at least she finally had. She wished, not for the first time, that her mother had not kept her away as a child. She had been thinking about this recently, wondering what exactly about the West had kept her mother away for so long. She knew her father had been a “no good cowboy.” Why this had to mean that all things west of the Mississippi were banned, she could not understand. Lenora knew that she herself had been born with an innate love of horses; she imagined that it must have come from her father. What had that man really done to her mother to make her leave and never come back? It was time that she had a good long talk with Annie about the whole situation. It had been long enough since her mother’s death that she felt like she needed some answers.
Annie met Lenora inside the ranch house with a cup of hot peppermint tea and some fresh scones. Her aunt smiled shyly and led Lenora into the kitchen. All across the kitchen table were pictures. Many of them were black and white and some were splotched and sun faded. Shocked, Lenora touched her throat and could not speak. It was as if her aunt had been reading her mind and knew it was indeed time for Lenora to know more about her own heritage. Sitting down, Lenora felt the odd sensation of seeing her kin caught in snippets of time. She knew the images could never capture the whole of her lineage, but hoped they would at least give her a glimpse.
“This is your Uncle Byron’s daddy, and this is his grandfather,” Annie said.
She held up a snapshot of a tall boy wearing pants he had clearly outgrown. Standing behind him was a severe looking cowboy in his early twenties. There was nothing but dirt, a few stunted pines, and a very thin saddle horse in the background.
“This is Byron and his brother, Jake. Jake died in a car wreck in ’72,” Annie said.
Lenora slid the picture across the knotted pine of the kitchen table. Her uncle looked goofy and happy, his brother standing next to him was smiling with bigger ears than Byron and more freckles. Beside them stood another boy holding a fishing rod. He looked about the same age but with serious eyes.
“Who’s the other boy?” Lenora said.
Her aunt in reply pushed more photos across the table. The dark eyed boy was riding a flashy palomino, holding up a big buckle that he must have won from a rodeo. Another photograph depicted him dancing with a girl at a county fair. Lenora thought she looked familiar.
“He’s your uncle’s cousin, Amos— a cowboy,” Annie said.
Annie was looking at her hands and not at Lenora. “Your Mom and I argued over this often when you were young. And argued again when she was close to the end. She thought it was best you didn’t know anything about him. He was a cowboy. You know, Lenora. The kind that chases girls, ride bucking horses and never earn more than they can drink on a Friday night.”
“So he’s my dad?” Lenora said.
“Yes,” Annie said.
“Is he still alive?” Lenora asked. “Does he live in Montana?”
“Yes.” Annie looked up, and Lenora could see anguish and worry in her aunt’s eyes.
“Could I meet him?”
This was so much to take in. Lenora realized she had been gripping the solid oak of the chair back. She unclenched her hands and took a deep breath. It made, she realized, perfect sense to learn about her father now as she was building her own life in the mountains. She wondered for a moment if she did in fact want to meet this drinking, womanizing cowboy. She realized she did. Maybe he was different now, maybe he was not the man her mother loosely described with such distaste.
“You can,” Annie said. “He’d like to meet you. I wanted to wait until you had had some time to adjust to everything before I brought him up. Are you mad?”
“No, no!” Lenora said. “I’m just kind of…. Well, I don’t exactly know what to say. I didn’t think that you knew who he was.”
“Your mother was determined to have a better life,” Annie said. “And I don’t think she wanted anything holding the two of you back. She really was just trying to protect you and give you the best possible life. I’m sure of it.”
“Mom always made it sound like she had a one-night stand or something,” Lenora said. “I guess I just kind of hadn’t even thought about trying to find him now that I’m older. I went through this period in eighth grade when I thought that he would come rescue me because Mom had this new boyfriend I hated.”
Annie was crying and Lenora stood up and put her arms around her aunt.
“Annie, what’s wrong?” Lenora said.
“I just wish that she hadn’t been so stubborn about bringing you here. And I wish that I hadn’t been so stubborn about coming to see the two of you in Chicago.”
Lenora grabbed the box of tissues from the counter and made her aunt a fresh cup of tea. Annie wiped her face and then smiled at Lenora.
“You know I was mad at her at one point for never having another child?” Annie said. “I wanted one so bad. And Byron and I both had problems. After the third miscarriage, well…. Well, Byron took matters into his own hands and went in and had ‘the old snip, snip.’ He did it so that I couldn’t be hurt anymore by losing the babies.”
Lenora was shocked by the deep sadness she witnessed in her aunt. More of the puzzle of her own ancestry was coming to light. Along the way, she was also beginning to see the complex dynamics between her mother and aunt.
“I was mad at your mother because she had you so easily and early, and I couldn’t have a child even after waiting and being married and all that. You see, Lenora, Maura was the wild child, and I was the good older sister who waited to kiss boys and ride in their trucks. I played by all the rules, and yet somehow I was never able to have the children I so badly wanted.”
“You have me,” Lenora said. “I know I’m mostly grown up, but I still like it when you take care of me.”
“You really are staying? Clay or no Clay?” Annie said.
“No cowboy is going to run me off.” Lenora kissed her aunt lightly on the cheek. Annie showed Lenora more pictures of her mother wearing a daisy print dress and holding up a pet rabbit. Then older in a full bathing suit but with the body of a very pretty young woman. Towards the back of the stack was an image of Amos and her mother together. Maura looked like some kind of seventies movie star, with her bell bottoms and lovely full hair. Her father, Amos, had on tight jeans. His paisley shirt was undone to the fourth button, and he wore spurs and a cowboy hat. He had that look about him which Lenora was getting to know. It was the mark of a true working cowboy; serious with an easy air of confidence. He definitely was not just some dressed up dandy.
“What happened, Annie? What happened between them?” Lenora said. “What made Mom so mad?”
She touched the picture of her mother and father and felt a thrill run through her whole body. Never before had she thought she would actually see her father. Now to see both of her parents together, it was almost too much to believe.
“He was flirting with girls at rodeos when your mom was pregnant,” Annie said. “He was a boy really, and I don’t think he realized how much his life was about to change. They argued, and somehow it ended up that she moved away, and he never got to know you. Although, I know he came around one of the first summers she brought you back. That’s part of the reason she stopped coming.”
“So I met my dad?” Lenora said.
“Yes,” Annie said. “You were only a year or two old though. It was so long ago.”
Lenora did not really know how to feel. She kept picking up images and asking questions. Before she knew it the men were taking their boots off and coming in for dinner. Lenora jumped up from the table and started heating soup and cutting wedges of homemade bread. The men must be cold and hungry, she thought. Annie was telling Clay about some of the images, and she saw her uncle pick up a black and white photo. She wondered if Clay knew her father. Their eyes locked across the table covered in pictures. Lenora’s hand stilled on the soup spoon, and her heart began to pick up speed. He nodded, his hair fell forward to cover part of his face and he looked back down. The moment passed and she could breathe again.
All through dinner Lenora felt like she was in a daze. Her mind tried to piece all the new information together. If only Maura had opened up to Lenora about the past. Why could she not have shared the truth about Lenora’s father with her before she left this world so suddenly, Lenora wondered. Would even an irresponsible father have been better than leaving Lenora feeling like an orphan adrift in the whole, huge world?
The next morning dawned clear and bright with an inch of new snow covering the fields. Before doing chores or making breakfast, Lenora saddled Major. He was not happy about being ridden before being fed, but once he had a lung full or two of cold mountain air, he was fully on board with their illicit early morning adventure. She trotted him carefully up the drive to the west, which rose slowly to the summer grazing grounds. He was skittish in the cold, so she eased into a canter, burying her hands in his pure white mane and letting the chill air bring tears to her eyes. Far up the road, Major skittered to a halt. Two gray wolves crossed the road in front of them. Their muzzles were covered in frosty snow. Lenora imagined they had been digging in the fresh white stuff looking for mice or voles. Major watched them with his ears perked forward, and then he lowered his head and blew hard through his nose. Lenora could not help but laugh as both wolves silently disappeared into the pine forest to the south. She heard the crunch of snow behind them and Major swung around and whinnied as Clay came into view on a young chestnut. Lenora sat quietly on Major and watched him approach. The snow flew up from the long-legged colt’s canter, and Clay’s black hair blew back from his high cheekbones and dark eyes. Her heart bounced around her chest awkwardly. She tried her best to arrange her face in an appropriately calm and friendly expression for their sudden meeting. The only image in her mind was the firelight glowing on his tanned, golden-brown chest and the look in his eyes as he kissed every inch of her naked body.
“I’m sorry if I’m disturbing your ride,” Clay said.
“No. It’s fine,” Lenora said. “We were just enjoying the snow and clear air. Oh, and two wolves.”
“They come through this time of year,” Clay said. “Usually from Canada. We don’t have a pack near the ranch right now.”
Lenora felt awkward for a moment but let Major fall into stride with the colt. The sudden, unbidden image of their lovemaking had left her with nothing to say to her handsome companion. She was relieved that Clay seemed inclined to let the silence of the morning settle around them.
The sun was full in front of them as they rounded another bend in the road. Snow shimmered in the pines and a few bare-limbed aspen. This was a perfect morning. They rode on in silence for another quarter mile, then Clay turned the colt, and they all headed back to the ranch. About halfway down the long road, she finally felt her head return to the moment and words were easier to find.
“Annie tells me you know my father?” Lenora tried to keep emotion out of her voice.
“I do,” Clay replied.
She glanced over at him sitting his horse with such relaxed poise, and saw him carefully arrange his reins and smooth the copper hair of the colt’s mane.
“He works at a small spread about forty miles from here,” Clay continued. “Lives on the ranch in his own trailer. He works cattle and always has a decent saddle horse or two he rides.”
She could hear in Clay’s voice the masculine way of saying that this other man, her father, was a cowboy and not to judge him by outside standards. Cowboys were their own breed as she was slowly learning.
“I could drive you over later this afternoon? If you wanted to go?” Clay sounded hesitant and yet hopeful.
Lenora felt her insides freeze up as if she had broken through the iced over river and fallen into the cold, rushing water beneath. So soon, she found herself thinking. Should she really go at all, she wondered. Would he even want to see her? Did she really want to get to know this man, whom her mother had so studiously kept from her? She pondered this last thought. Clay did not break the silence. Once back at the ranch, he offered to take care of the horses so she could start on breakfast. Walking to the ranch house, her head was still whirling from the idea of seeing her father today.
Her aunt was outside helping with an early calf, so Lenora had the kitchen to herself. She scrambled some eggs and put slices of bacon in the oven; every once in a while, she surprised her uncle with bacon, and then poured the banana nut muffin batter she had mixed the night before into the baking tins. She definitely wanted to meet her dad. There was no doubt of that in her mind. However, she was scared to jump right in without first going over every possible scenario in her mind in agonizing detail. How would she even respond to him, she wondered. What should she call him: Amos? Dad? Would he be angry with her mother? Surely, he must know Maura was dead, and Lenora was here at the ranch, and yet he had not tried to come and visit her. Was he afraid after all these years? Or maybe Amos, like Lenora herself, was lost as to how a relationship could be forged between two adults who were tied together by such a strong bond, and yet complete strangers to one another.
During breakfast, talk of the sudden appearance of a new calf dominated the table. Lenora avoided Clay’s eyes all through the meal, she really did not know if she could explain to him her fear of meeting her father without crying. The last thing she wanted him to see was how fragile her hard-won peacefulness really was.
After breakfast she and Jesse went out to the converted bunkhouse. The electrician had come and put in the new light fixtures and the elk antler chandelier. The area now was divided into two bedrooms and a large living room with a fireplace. The room had windows facing west toward the mountains and the sunset. Lenora set Jesse up with the cream paint, and she took the rich red and started on the accent wall opposite the windows. It felt good to stretch her back and watch the color glide on.
Later, as she opened bales of hay and fed out big flakes of delicious alfalfa, Clay came up beside her and opened the gate and then closed it behind her. They stood for a moment and watched the horses eat against the backdrop of the setting sun. Standing this close to him, with the length of the day behind them, Lenora wanted to lean against him and feel his arms slip around her. She imagined for a moment what it would be like to go back to his bunkhouse and let him just hold her, which was all she really wanted. He shifted next to her, and rested both arms on the cattle gate. She took a deep breath.
“Could you take me to meet my father?” Lenora said. “On Saturday morning?”
He turned and looked at her. His eyes were so rich she imagined she was lying on her back looking up at a clear, night sky. It frightened her, and she looked down at the dirty snow under her boots.
“Yes,” he said. “I would love to.”