Awake with anxiety before the sun rose, Lenora baked muffins. She wrapped one for Clay to eat in a paper towel and then pulled on her coat. Outside, the icy chill of a gray day greeted her. Clay had the truck warmed up and waiting and she slid in and slammed the door on the dreary cold.
“For you, if you want?” Lenora handed him the muffin, still steaming from the oven and a thermos of coffee.
“Bribery?” Clay said.
“Or payment.”
Her words sounded pinched to her own ears; she felt nervous and did not want to joke.
Clay ate the muffin by the time they had pulled out on the main road. Mechanically she offered him another from the basket.
“So good,” he said between bites.
Lenora looked at her hands, which were sweating and white from being clenched together.
“Deep breaths,” Clay said.
“I’m fine.” She was instantly irritated he could tell how distraught she really was.
“I didn’t say you weren’t fine. I just meant relax. I imagine that he’s way more nervous than you are. You hold all the cards, Lenora. You can, as you women always do, let him know where the relationship goes. I imagine he’s just happy to know that you want to visit him.”
He took his eyes off the winding road and glanced over at her as he spoke.
“Sorry,” she said.
“No problem.” His eyes were back on the road.
The mountains opened as they drove southeast, and the snow scape flattened and broadened. Lenora kept her eyes on the window, forcing her brain to register the changing terrain. She told herself over and over that she was the one in control; just like Clay had said.
Finally, they turned down a dirt drive and drove under a simple arch made of old telephone poles with the Double B’s of the ranch name swinging in the damp wind. The road, like many ranch roads, led back a good mile and a half before they reached the calving sheds and a cluster of simple barns. Lenora noticed her shallow breathing and forced herself to take a deep lungful of air. Clay stopped the truck and shut off the engine, then put on his jacket and hat. He waited until she was standing beside him, before setting off for the biggest of the barns. Lenora felt eternally grateful that he was shepherding her through this introduction. The sliding door was open on the south end of the barn. They stepped inside to hear a radio playing Willie Nelson. A couple guys were standing around watching a man shoe a big gray mare. Clay shook hands with the lounging men. Lenora watched the man, shoeing the horse, straighten up and give her a very shy smile. He had dark eyes, a thick beard and skin that was tanned the color of weak coffee. He brushed his hands off on his shoeing apron and then took the few steps to Lenora.
“Amos,” he said. He offered her his hand.
“Lenora,” She said. Her hand was only a little damp as he folded it in his.
“You want to wait in the trailer?” Amos said. “I only have the right hind to finish.”
Clay nodded and then guided Lenora out of the barn and back into the gray day. They walked towards a grove of aspen, now naked and white trunked in the snow, and an ancient but solid trailer.
Inside, a very old cattle dog with foggy eyes and a limp greeted them amiably. The trailer itself was sparse but clean. The whole place smelled of saddle soap, which Lenora quite liked. She sat on a coach covered by a Navajo blanket with black and red and gray stripes and petted the dog. Clay banged around in the kitchen with a teapot and mugs.
“Tea or coffee?” He asked.
“Tea.” The back of her throat felt dry.
There were a couple of Native American prints and a few pictures of horses and one of a group of cowboys all sitting on a fence and grinning. Lenora heard steps outside the trailer and then knocking of boots to remove snow. She felt her body tense up. The dog jumped off the couch and limped to the door, and Amos patted his head as he took his jacket off. Clay rose and handed him a cup of coffee from the counter and then offered him a muffin from Lenora’s basket on a tiny paper plate. Amos took both and sat across from Lenora in a faded floral armchair. Unsure what to say she waited for him to speak.
“Well,” Amos said. “I sure am glad you came.”
He set the cup of coffee on the floor and brushed some crumbs off his lap, which the dog snuffled up. Amos looked right at her; she saw that his eyes were still the deep brown of the young man in the pictures.
“I don’t blame your mother for what she did,” Amos said. His voice was quiet and steady. He continued to pick each word with great care. “She only wanted the best kind of future for you. The best kind of life.”
“I know she did,” Lenora said. She felt the tears coming and was powerless to stop them. “You know she’s gone. Right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Annie kept me up to date.”
“I’m sorry, Amos,” Lenora said. “I thought this out in my head a million times over. I thought I would tell you all about me and about my life. And now, and now I don’t have a clue what to say.”
The tears were coming. How had she turned into such a sodden mess, she wondered. Awkwardly, Amos stood and touched her shoulder. She was not sure how to respond, a hug seemed like too much too soon, and so she just reached up and touched his hand. His skin was warm and dry and felt comforting under her damp and shaky fingers.
“Sorry,” Lenora said. “I’ll be fine.”
Amos sat back down. Clay slipped in next to her and lightly placed his arm around her shoulders. She realized Clay was treating her like one of his scared colts, she did not mind at all. No wonder all those horses loved him so much, she thought, he was a perfect security blanket.
“I was wondering if you would like to go for a trail ride next Sunday?” Amos said. “Clay tells me you have a nice Arabian, and you like to ride?”
“Yes,” Lenora said. “I’d love to.”
Riding would make this easier for both of them, she reasoned. Maybe she would not even cry.
“There’s a little trail that goes up to this waterfall,” Amos said. “And this time of year the elk are up there sheltering and feeding. I think you’d like it.”
He was looking at his hands, and then slowly raised his eyes and met Lenora’s tear smeared ones.
“I would,” Lenora said. “Clay’s been showing me this whole western way of riding and seeing the mountains.”
She felt herself flush and hoped that her father had no idea about the romantic trail ride, which had led to their brief fling.
“The weather isn’t going to get any better,” Clay interjected. “We had better head on home.”
They all rose, and Amos shook Clay’s hand. Lenora impulsively grasped both of her father’s hands in her own before turning and stepping out of the trailer into the misting cold. Amos followed them out.
“Thanks for the muffins. Very, very good,” he said. “Clay, thanks for bringing her.”
“So next Sunday?” Lenora said.
“About ten or so in the morning,” Amos replied. “I’ll be waiting.”
Clay and Lenora walked to the truck and climbed in. The air around them was turning to crystals and when Clay started the truck the windshield was covered in a thin layer of ice. Clay drove with deliberation as they left the ranch and pulled out on the highway.
“Will you help me move some horses around when we get home?” Clay said.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “What’s wrong?”
“I just don’t like this weather. It’s strange,” he said. “Ice is the worst killer, snow is nothing compared to ice.”
Feeling drained and relieved, Lenora sat back in the truck seat and was again thankful Clay had driven her.
“How do you feel?” Clay asked.
“Good. It’s a relief really. Like I faced my fear. I don’t know how I feel exactly about building a relationship with him. It’s... Well, it’s awkward and strange. But I like the idea of riding with him.” She hesitated for a moment. “You will come, too, right?”
“Yes, I’ll come,” Clay said.
She thought she saw him smile, but he did not take his eyes from the sleet-covered road. She felt childlike as she suddenly realized she knew very little about Clay’s family. It was ridiculous really, she thought, in the beginning she had been so shy around him and wrapped in her own veil of grief, then full-headed lust had taken over and there had not been room for much else.
She wondered if he would be offended if she asked now, so late into their relationship. The only time they had spoken of the past had been to share little tidbits from their childhood. Clay could be so quiet and private; making it hard for her to tell what was going through his mind. The funny thing about facing the fear of meeting her father was now Lenora found herself willing to take another risk and ask Clay about his own history.
“So, what about your dad?” Lenora said.
“What about him?” His voice was even.
“Where is he? Do you speak with him?”
“He was in South Dakota,” Clay said. “Last time I talked to him.”
“When was that?”
“Two winters ago.”
“Clay, I’m just trying to know a little about you,” Lenora opened her curled fingers and massaged the center of her left palm.
“I know, I know. Sorry. I’m really glad you and Amos met. He’s a pretty decent guy.” Clay glanced away from the road for a moment, his eyes were serious and dark.
“Thanks. It’s still a little strange to even have a dad,” she said. “So, you don’t talk to your father much?”
She knew she was searching, maybe crossing lines that should not be crossed. Still she would keep digging a little further; maybe Clay would open up a tiny bit to her. He was silent as they crossed over the last big highway and ascended into the mountains. Finally, after she had given up hope and was about to try and find something on the radio, he began to speak.
“My dad is a real asshole. You know he has at least three kids spread across the west and no child support for any of them. But even more than the money, no relationship. The only reason him and I even talk is because there for a bit I was riding some nice cutting horses, one of them was this big-time stallion. Well, I got him a couple breeding’s for next to nothing. And he had a pretty good colt, and I agreed to ride it and sell it as a futurity horse. Anyway, as soon as he got the money he left town and wouldn’t return any of my calls. When we finally see each other, down in Scottsdale, he tries to dodge me. When I asked why, he admitted he thought I was after a cut from the colt. That just flat pissed me off. You know? Like my own father just thinks the only thing I want from him is money? Sure it would have been great to get a few bucks and put new tires on my truck. But what I really wanted was to know my dad. I wanted that pretty bad at points, growing up. All the other kids around me had dads with ranches and cattle and horses. And I didn’t have anyone to teach me anything,” Clay said.
Outside the sky was the same color as the road and Clay drove with both hands on the wheel.
“I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want you in his life, Clay. You’re what every cowboy should be; an honest man who tries to take care of everyone around him.”
“That’s kind of what your aunt and uncle keep on telling me,” Clay said. “I’ve come to peace with who he is. I like to think I would have been a very different kind of father.”
Lenora mulled over the image of Clay holding his child. He would be careful and gentle, she imagined, treating the baby properly, like a small gift from God.
“I’m sorry, Clay.” She was at a loss for words.
“Me too. Every single day,” he said. “But thanks.” For one quick second he took his eyes from the slick road, she felt her chest constrict with the gentle sorrow she saw in his face.
“So, so, your mom…?” She said. There was a lot she wanted to ask him now that he was letting her in.
She remembered the long trip to check the summer pastures, and how she had opened up to him so much over those couple of days. Really, he had never returned the favor, and so she felt blindfolded while stumbling over his feelings and scars. If she was not going to make love to him, she at least wanted to know what was in his mind and heart.
“My mom is Lakota. My father a white man,” Clay said.
His answer drew her out of her window-brooding, and her face was on fire. She did not have a way with words.
“I didn’t mean their ethnicities!” Lenora blurted out. “I meant do you talk to her?”
“You white people are so worried about saying the wrong thing. Now that all the damage has been done.” He flashed his full smile, and then continued. “Yes, I do. I will go and see her in the spring for the equinox ceremony. And before you ask, I last saw her when you took your trip back east. I have a brother, too, Corbin. He’s out playing ‘rodeo cowboy’ right now.”
“Oh. I see,” Lenora said.
“I hope you get to meet her one day,” he continued. “She would like you.”
His words made her throat constrict. She could not help but wonder what he might have told his mother about her.
Glancing quickly at Clay, she realized he was now concentrating on the road which was too smooth looking. They fishtailed into the gravel driveway of the ranch. Lenora felt Clay visibly relax.
At the house Lenora pulled on her Carhartt’s and a thick hat. Then she hurried out to help Clay move the livestock around. The ground was slick and the air full of ice.
Clay and Lenora walked up the wash to the west and opened the gates to let the horses into the North Barn. The group was a ragtag bunch of older ranch horses and some colts Clay was bringing up. The world around them finally gave way, and the temperature fell enough to turn the freezing rain to snow. Heavy, wet flakes fell all around them created a curtain into which buildings and animals disappeared. Lenora was shocked by the amount of snow falling so quickly.
Annie came out on the porch and made her way over to them. She brought a steaming thermos, and they all took swigs of spiked hot chocolate.
“So good! What is it?” Lenora asked.
“That’s her secret recipe,” Clay said.
Taking a large gulp Annie just laughed. Lenora felt giddy with the snow and alcohol; she could not help but love her first blizzard.
Much later, sitting around the fireplace with more mugs of Annie’s magic drink and the snow falling outside, Lenora told them about meeting Amos. Her uncle whittled, and Clay worked on the fringe of his chaps with a large needle and thin strips of cowhide. Annie was quiet with a novel tucked between her legs, and Lenora felt herself give in to the peace of the evening. Their best herding dog, Suzie, slumped asleep at Lenora’s feet. She reached down to run her fingers along the dog’s silky ears from time to time during her retelling of the day’s events.
“It was strange,” Lenora said. “I had thought before meeting him that somehow I might recognize him. Like, well, like in a physically way. But I didn’t. Well, maybe a little with my nose.”
“And your eyes,” Clay said. “But yours have flecks of green where his are just brown.”
Lenora caught her aunt and uncle exchange a look. She felt herself blush, Clay still noticed her eyes.
Later in her bedroom Lenora watched the snow fall from the window. She smiled to herself remembering how well Clay had taken care of her during her first meeting with her father. At least she still had the beautiful cowboy in her life.