Poetry & Life

by Suzanne D. Williams

  Kees rolled that over in his head. Mallory ought to know he loved her, but maybe his constant avoidance of the place gave her doubts. For that matter, he’d never considered the fact he did love her until now.

  Brenna looked away. “My dad loves me. I know that. And he’s probably half out of his mind by now with worry.” She slanted her gaze. “You think we’re here for a couple more days? You mentioned the creek ....”

  Why did she ask? Fear for herself?

  “I’ll ride over and check it tomorrow,” he said. “I need to move the horses to find grass anyhow.”

  A strange rumble drowned out the last of his words. The threatening noise ripped the atmosphere, and the front of the house shook, tossing him backward into Brenna.

  “What ... was that?” she asked.

  He shifted to give her room, but didn’t rise. “Sounds like a tree fell. The door’s probably blocked.”

  She leaned over top, her gaze miles deep. “And this?” she asked.

  He raised one hand to her cheek, the heat of her skin spreading up his arm. Unspeaking, he traced the line of her jaw, ending with his fingers on her lips.

  “Your dad killing me,” he replied.

  Her chest already ached, so she wasn’t sure if the pain spanning it, right then, was from her sickness or Kees’s affection. He wouldn’t kiss her. She didn’t expect that. He didn’t need to catch whatever she had. But the fact he appeared to consider it settled in her mind.

  A shiver coursed down her frame. She ignored it, and he gave no sign he noticed. Eventually, he lowered his arm to his side.

  “How are we going to get out of this one?” she asked.

  Kees jerked his chin toward the back of the house. “I’ll climb out the window. There isn’t a saw, but I can use the axe to hack an opening. We’re lucky it didn’t fall on the house instead.” He ran his free hand atop this head and sighed. “Tomorrow. I don’t care tonight.”

  Neither did she. She wanted to know what he was thinking about her instead. His interest had cooled, however, or seemed to until darkness had fallen.

  He reached for her, pulling her toward him. He’d donned his boxers, but not bothered with his shirt. She shed the overalls and curled up against him, her legs pressed to his. He curved one hand around her back, his fingers toying with her hair.

  She expected him to quote a poem or something. It seemed that kind of mood.

  He didn’t, though, and in the quiet, she nodded off. A coughing fit woke her up. She gasped at the end, unable to hide just how tough it was to breathe.

  Kees wrapped his arms around her. “We’ve got to leave and take you to a doctor. I just can’t ...”

  He fell silent, leaving his thought unfinished. The moment passing, he cradled her to him. “I’ll stay awake. Don’t worry, Brenna. I’ll get us out of this.”

  She wasn’t a fool. He built himself up with those words when it was largely out of his control. She wouldn’t say so. This was sure to be a long, worrisome night, and him the only thing she had to hang onto. She had to trust him now more than ever.

  Kees kept himself awake reciting psalms in his head. They also served to prevent his mind from drifting to dark, fearful thoughts that would paralyze him. He couldn’t afford to think of what might happen, but would be better served to plan tomorrow’s exodus.

  If the river was too swollen, they’d have to ride further, where it might be more easily crossed. The location he was thinking of would mean traveling overnight, though, and he wasn’t sure if Brenna could go that long. He’d have to bundle her up.

  His gaze strayed to the bear skin. It wasn’t cold out, and he wasn’t sure the hide was ready. But more importantly, the skin would keep her dry.

  She sagged in his arms, her cheek pressed in the center of his chest. She was too hot. Worse, she labored to inhale, shuddering when the air rushed out. Toward morning, bleary-eyed, he’d begun to count the seconds between her breaths. She’d grown noticeably worse.

  She roused, but made no effort to move.

  “Don’t try to talk,” he said. “I’m going to wrap you up tight while I go around front and clear that tree.” He started to extricate himself, but her grip tightened. He swallowed hard. “I know you’re scared. So am I. But I need you to survive.”

  Peeling her head away, she looked upward.

  “I mean that,” he continued. “We’ll survive this together, but you have to be strong. Prove to everyone that no one deserves to live in Montana more than you.”

  She offered a weak smile, and he laid his hand atop her head.

  Freeing himself, he wrapped her tight in the blanket and aimed for the back window. He worked his way through it, the axe clenched in one hand. Chopping the tree out of the way took longer than he wanted, but finally, he shoved the door open and crossed to her side.

  Her eyes were too bright, her color too high.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s get you dressed warm and gather our things.”

  She leaned on him while donning her jeans, visibly shaking after making the effort. He gathered what spare clothing she’d found, the rest of the bear meat, as well as the skillet and a handful of cooking utensils. After dousing the fire, he brought the horses close to the door, loading hers with their things and a small stack of firewood.

  She had no strength to mount. Kees guided her to his horse, one hand on her shoulder. “You’ll ride with me. It’ll be warmer ... and we’ll wrap you in this.” He unrolled the bear skin. “Need to keep you warm and dry.”

  Getting her on the horse took both his strength and the little she had left. She wilted against him, her chin tucked to her chest. He tossed the bearskin around her and clucked his tongue, aiming the horses toward the river.

  The trees drooped from the weight of so many days of rain. The soil squished beneath the horses’ hooves, the disparate sounds blending in with the song of a handful of birds and the huff of their breaths.

  “I love you,” she said.

  His eyes moistened. One arm around her side, he laid his palm in her lap. “I know. You hold onto that thought, and we’ll talk about it. Okay?”

  She nodded and sagged.

  A love he didn’t deserve and wasn’t sure if he should return. But more and more, he learned that’s how love worked. It came to you in spite of any effort you made and changed everything around you. What mattered in the past didn’t anymore. Your focus was now on far more important things.

  Like life. And up ’til now, he’d taken his ... and hers ... for granted.

  The river far exceeded its banks, more even than Kees had expected. Water rushed and tumbled, violently, downstream, taking with it any hope of a quick ride. He strengthened his hold on Brenna and spoke with confidence he didn’t entirely feel. “We’ve got to go out of our way, but trust me, I’ll get us across.”

  She said nothing, and he tugged the reins, turning the horses to follow the swollen river upstream.

  Toward nightfall, they were still a good distance from any fordable place, so he rode them a fair distance off, halting near an outcropping that would provide minimal shelter. Dismounting, he helped her down after him and saw her settled against the rock wall. He then set out to build a fire and warm the remains of the bear meat. Without any way to refrigerate it, he’d had to cook much of it in advance. It would last longer that way, but was still apt for spoilage without being smoked or salted instead.

  He took a seat beside her, holding out a plate he’d brought from the cabin. She picked at the food, listless, not taking more than a couple bites. She leaned her cheek to his shoulder, her fingers tangled in a piece of his shirt.

  He ate what he could, setting the rest aside. Grasping her wrist, he freed her hand and folded it in his. Their fingers intertwined brought comfort, but said something greater, something lodged in his heart. What to do with it when they got back was an enormous problem. Her dad wouldn’t like any interest he showed, but ignoring her was impossible from here on out.

  He dozed upri
ght, waking often to check on her. At the edge of dawn, she asked to relieve herself, stumbling briefly out of view. He repacked the horses and they mounted, once more. A couple hours’ ride found them at the river, facing what would be a treacherous crossing.

  “What’s our choices?” Brenna asked, her voice hoarse.

  “I’m not sure if it can be crossed twice, or I’d lead the horses across then come back for you. We’ll have to try to ride it.” But it could be deep in the center and with the weight of what the animals carried far riskier. “I need to lighten the load.”

  He dismounted and removed the rest of the firewood, dumping it at the base of a tree. The bear’s head he’d left at the cabin, but the axe and cooking utensils could be ditched. He rolled them in some of the clothing and stuffed them in a cavity he made, piling rocks and lumber around them. Then, remounting, he paced the horses toward the water, speaking soothing.

  Brenna’s horse balked, the whites of its eyes shining. She reached for the reins, taking them from his grip. “I can ride her across.”

  “Brenna ...”

  She turned her gaze toward his. “Tough as Montana, remember? I’m not going to forfeit what you’re giving me.”

  Sobered, he didn’t argue, but with her in the saddle behind him, he feared for every step across the river. She gripped tight with her thighs and, he could see, worked hard to calm the frightened beast. She plunged out of the water at his side, triumphant. He saw exhaustion on her, though, and the effort it took to inhale. They’d be near nightfall getting to his dad’s place. He prayed she’d hold out that long.

  “Home,” she said.

  He nodded. “You want to ride or ...”

  “I’ll ride. It’ll keep me awake.”

  Not arguing, Kees clucked his tongue, and his horse set off down the familiar path, the trod of Brenna’s horse coming from behind. Where she’d been for nineteen years, trailing along after him in the hopes he’d sit up and pay attention.

  He was awake now, his mind and emotions twisted together, each step they took bringing her closer to his heart.

  Malcolm Stratton paced the floor of the great room, the eerie quiet straining his nerves. With Brenna there, things were always lively. She’d chatter, making plans or spreading gossip. She was always full of information, studying something, experimenting, willing to dive in face first with whatever she was interested in. He hadn’t realized until her absence just how used to the noise, the activity, he’d gotten, and now, facing the silence, how wrong he’d been to force her to give up the place in this state that meant so much to her.

  He’d raised her to be Montana, then tried to convince her otherwise. In vain. He saw that now.

  His fears over Kees wouldn’t turn loose, however. From the start, the first time he’d seen her look at the cowboy, stars in her eyes, he’d known they’d be an issue. Fighting against it had proven pointless. Yet, here he stood, wishing her back, with the same unreasonable need to keep her and Kees miles apart.

  Studying it, he had a hard time with Kees’s father, Jack. Personality conflicts had always plagued them, creating sparks whenever they crossed paths. They’d gone through some difficult business dealings that’d made things worse. Neither one should have formed an opinion of Kees, who, being reasonably minded, had put space between him and his dad by working for the Chapmans.

  Malcolm came to a halt in front of the window, the wide vista of his land, sweeping upward to the mountains. He leaned his weight on one palm, gripping the trim.

  “Where are you?” he asked aloud.

  He’d formed an opinion anyhow and couldn’t shake the troubled image, though Brenna’s survival depended on Kees.

  Not entirely on Kees. She was young and naïve, but far smarter than the girls he’d tried to turn her into. She wasn’t frills and lace. She was blue jeans and campfires. He either admitted that or he’d lose her forever.

  Like he’d lost his wife.

  Brenna didn’t see what he did, how much the softer side of her was her mom. How that soft side had torn his marriage apart. In some ways, that was the reason for their trip this past winter. He’d wanted to know if life with her mother held any allure.

  It hadn’t. She’d ridden back to Montana and fled out the door at the suggestion she shouldn’t be here. That made this past long, horrible week entirely his fault. Because as much as she was like her mom, she was his daughter, grown deep in Montana soil.

  His phone jangled, and he crossed the room in three strides. “Malcolm,” he said into the receiver. “They’re back? I’ll be there in ... taking her to the hospital?” His heart gripped. “You did the right thing, Glenda. Thanks for calling. I’ll head that way.”

  She was alive, but gravely ill. Malcolm whispered a prayer, though it seemed like the words smacked the ceiling and came back.

  CHAPTER 5

  The care of Brenna lifted from his shoulders, Kees faded into the background. Between his mom’s attention, the doctors and nurses moving in and out of the room, and Malcolm hovering in the wings, there was no space for him with her any more. He stayed long enough to catch the news of her state of health, then strode from the hospital into the parking lot.

  Their tiny town hadn’t more than a small clinic, so they’d had to drive further south, far enough from home he felt out of place. Give him a horse, the mountains, and miles of empty terrain. Don’t dump him amongst asphalt and steel.

  “Son.”

  Hearing his dad’s voice, Kees glanced behind. He hooked his fingers in his pockets and slouched.

  His dad clapped one hand on his shoulder, compressing his fingers. “You did the right thing.”

  What did that mean? By rescuing her? By riding toward their house?

  “I did what I’ve trained to do.”

  His dad’s hand fell away, his brow furrowing.

  “What you trained me to do,” Kees pressed. “I get it now. She helped me see why you’ve always been ... just out of reach.”

  When his dad didn’t respond, Kees continued.

  “I’ve felt like I couldn’t ask you things.”

  “You can ask whatever you like,” his dad replied.

  Kees crossed his arms. “Hasn’t seemed like it. Instead, you tossed me on a horse and told me to ride.”

  “You were happy ... I thought. You thrived. You’re good at what you do.”

  “I struggled, and knowing you trusted me doesn’t eliminate the rejection. In my head, you shoved me aside and fell in love with Mallory ...” Kees raised one hand, palm outward. “I love Mal. I’m going to spend more time with her ... Brenna helped me see that, too.”

  “Then what is this?” his dad asked.

  Kees released a frustrated breath. “This is me stumping my toe, falling off my horse, standing face-to-face with a grizzly on my own. I’m the lonesome cowboy. I can live off the land without any need for modern intervention. Yet, I needed to know that, in spite of how much I outstrip you in survival tactics, I was Jack Butler’s son and he loved me.”

  “I love you, son. I thought you knew that.”

  Kees stared, silent, at his dad, then shifted his gaze to the horizon. He was sure this was “small town” to most, but it seemed far too crowded to him and he couldn’t wait to get back. Montana was the horizon, minus roads.

  “You get this from Brenna Stratton?”

  Kees spun in place. “‘This’ isn’t a disease. There is nothing for me to ‘get’, and as for Brenna, I love her.” The words fell out, and his dad started. Kees couldn’t call them back, but didn’t really want to. “I need air,” he said. He struck out across the lot, not looking back.

  Out of view of his father, he paused, one hand rising to massage his neck. “I love her,” he said to himself. What exactly was he supposed to do about that?

  The next few days were a blur. Between her illness and whatever medication they had her on, Brenna couldn’t focus much and so let the hours slide by. Her first wakeful moment was, fittingly, with her dad. She had t
he memory he’d been there at all hours. He looked it, his hair disheveled, his face lined.

  “Hey, Pigeon. You awake?”

  Brenna stretched her fingers and inhaled. It felt so good to breathe. “Mmm, I think. Where’s ...?” Kees. Though she didn’t say his name, given her dad’s expression, he clearly knew who she meant. She couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

  “He’s gone home, but he said to tell you he’ll call.” Her dad paused, seeming to weigh his words. “I’m grateful to him, and I told him so. He’s my hero.”

  Odd, to hear her dad say that, but she didn’t refute it. Kees deserved every bit of the praise. He’d want to hear it anyhow, want the entire county to hear it, for that matter.

  “Your mom is coming,” her dad added.

  That announcement shifted her thoughts. “To Montana?”

  Her dad nodded. “She’s bringing her stepdaughter. In fact, she asked if Sierra could stay for a while. She’s writing a book and needs to get away from the crawl of life. I told her if you didn’t mind, it was okay with me.”

  “Sure, that’s ... that’s great. I wanted to meet her.” And was glad her mom was coming, however brief she’d stay. It would be odd having her in the house again. Bumping elbows with her dad was sure to bring up memories. She hoped there were more good ones than bad.

  Her dad’s expression told her he’d considered the same thing. She left him to his musings and drifted back to sleep. She awakened later, hungry for the first time in days.

  “I’m starved,” she said. “I’ve had nothing but bear meat for over a week.”

  “I heard about that,” her dad replied. “Kees said he shot the grizzly.”

  “Was bigger than just shooting him. If he hadn’t gotten there when he did, I would have been dinner ....” Brenna hushed. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I shouldn’t say that.” Though it was true. “I’m sorry for running away like I did. I have to learn to think first and not always fly off the handle ... but I don’t want to leave Montana!”