Twelve Months

by Steven Manchester

  The cozy courtyard, built for outdoor dining and evening entertainment, led us into the dining room. “This is where everyone meets for breakfast at the crack of dawn, dinner at high noon, and supper when the day’s chores are through – except on days when our cook, Mrs. Gomes, grills outside.”

  A sweet looking grandmother, dressed in a red and white checkerboard smock, was marinating some type of beef in the kitchen. As we passed by, she waved.

  “There’s also Paul and Lisa who live on the ranch with their daughter, Mykala. Paul does a little bit of everything, but mostly leads trail rides and works with the horses. And Lisa helps me with booking reservations, serving meals, dishwashing and some of the housekeeping. Mykala’s six and she’s pretty much all the inspiration we need around here. Wherever the action is, that’s where you’ll spot her – especially on the horseback rides.”

  “You’ve got quite a family down here,” I said.

  “Sure do. Y’all just wait ‘til you meet Dusty. He’s a real hoot. Besides making sure the ranch runs smoothly, he also does most of the singing and campfire story telling. You’re gonna love him.”

  A border collie ran up to Bella and stood by her side, waiting to be petted. “This is Molly,” Gloria said. “She tags along on all the trail rides with our yellow Lab, Bailey.” She bent to rub the friendly dog’s neck. “She’s very playful. She’ll chase a stick all day long, if you’re throwing it. And she loves to swim.”

  “Where’s Bailey?” I asked.

  “Probably napping in the shade somewhere.” She looked at me and winked. “Bailey’s a little older and wiser than Molly here.” Gloria looked up from the dog and scanned the ranch. “Except for Pumpkin, our goat, you’ve met just about everyone.”

  “What about the horses?” Bella asked.

  Gloria placed her hand on my wife’s shoulder. “Trust me, over the next few days you’ll get to know them better than any of us.”

  I picked up a stick and threw it for Molly to fetch.

  Gloria shook her head and laughed.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Below the pines, there were thousands of acres of open desert landscaped with towering saguaro cactus and desert flora. There were beautiful mountains and desert vegetation everywhere – miles of Joshua trees, ocatillos, barrel cactus and other cacti. There were no subdivisions, city skylines, or the noise and distractions that came with them.

  After taking in the most gorgeous sunset I’d ever seen, we joined the other guests for our first taste of Mrs. Gomes’s cooking. It wasn’t the beans and pork I’d expected. Served buffet style, Mrs. Gomes put out a feast of split pea soup and vegetable-filled egg rolls, with dipping sauces. Carved roast prime rib of beef in a horseradish marinade was complemented by a steamed green bean and carrot medley. For dessert, a pastry table was set up under one of the trees. It was so good that I ate as much as I thought I could handle.

  After dinner, Dusty broke out his guitar and harmonica, ready to kick up his heels and tell stories. As darkness set in, he built a marshmallow-roasting campfire and sang a few songs we knew – and many more we’d never heard. I was hypnotized by the fire and hoped it wasn’t a sign of where I was heading.

  Between songs, Dusty explained, “In the late eighteen hundreds, young men eager for a day’s pay would join on as wranglers to drive cattle herds. They lived on the trail, sleeping and eating with the cattle. That’s how they got the name cowboys.”

  Everyone nodded. I pulled Bella closer to me.

  “And as you’ll see later this week, the stories of the cowboy out on the range are tales of rugged adventure.”

  I gave my wife a squeeze. The dancing fire made her face look even more beautiful.

  “Night,” Mrs. Gomes said to everyone and excused herself at an unusually early hour.

  As we enjoyed some relaxing fireside conversation with our new friends, Dusty sang two more songs before he put away his guitar. I wondered why – until we sat in silence for a few moments with nothing but the stars. I can only describe it as spiritual. Here we were – sitting with a couple dozen people we’d only just met – staring up into a twinkling sky, and I felt an incredibly close bond with each one of them. No one said a word. The peace and quiet of the beautiful night was bringing each of us back to a time that was more innocent and kind. The night brought a nip to the air, but the crackle of the fire fought it back just enough. With Bella snuggled safely in my arms, it was miraculous.

  Suddenly, I was overcome with a feeling of despair. It was as if someone had thrown a wet blanket of angst and sorrow over me, completely covering me in darkness. My mind spiraled downward faster than I could control it. I’ll be gone soon. Bella will be alone. What about the kids? How can it be over for me? Dear God, how… With every good cell left in me, I fought to push the negativity out of my head and heart. As this ruthless battle raged inside of me, Bella glanced up at me and smiled. I smiled back – and even added a wink. And as she turned back toward the fire, my mantra began. Concentrate on the present. Just enjoy what you have left…what you have right here, right now…

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The next morning, we awoke with the sun and prepared to venture out on our first trail ride. Stacks of flapjacks, bowls of steaming oatmeal with cinnamon and fresh blueberry muffins were waiting in the dining room, and I realized why Mrs. Gomes had excused herself so early.

  As if she were our mom, she packed bags of beef jerky and trail mix. I felt like a kid again, heading out into the wild unknown.

  Before we made it past the lodge, my new boots were killing my feet. I had to hurry back to the room and change them. “Don’t you dare say anything,” I told Bella.

  She laughed and held up the camera. “It’s not me who’s going to tell.”

  “Just take the pictures from the waist up,” I said and swallowed another pain pill.

  She promised.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  We got to choose, so Bella and I joined Al and Mykala in the slower group. “It’ll be a slow walking ride,” he promised, as we followed him down to the stables.

  He looked at Bella and then at the horses. “Scout will be perfect for you,” he said and led a black and white Pinto with one brown eye and one blue eye out of his stable to be saddled. Bella approached the horse and stroked his mane. They hit it off right away.

  Atop a Palomino named Lucky, who had crooked hindquarters, Al looked at me with his sad eyes. “Maybe Diablo for you?” he suggested and watched my face cringe. He grinned. “I’m playing. We’ll get you on Jumbo. He’s an old gentleman.”

  “Great. Thank you.”

  Jumbo was a snowflake Appaloosa, weighing every bit of two thousand pounds, with a hind end the size of a billboard. I swallowed hard when I saw him.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  While most of the other couples headed off for a challenging mountain ride with Paul and the dogs, Al and Mykala took Bella and me – along with two other couples: Tony and Liz, and Mark and Lynn – out on a nice easy ride. As soon as we left the corral, Lucky took the lead and was much too selfish to give it up. I quickly took notice. Al turned back and shrugged. “They’re like kids,” he said, “And Lucky’ll turn on any one of them, if they try to take his spot.”

  Right from the start, Jumbo liked to stop a lot and eat, depositing just as much from the rear. Though part of me envied him, I jerked on the reins to get the gentle monster to move. Al turned back again. “Like I said, these horses are like little kids. Each horse has its own personality, its own character. They get excited, impatient…and they also try to figure out who’s in control.”

  I pulled hard on the reins, but Jumbo just kept munching.

  “Believe it or not, there’s such a thing as being too gentle,” Al added, “You gotta let that ol’ butt biter know who’s ridin’ who.”

  So I did. I pulled as hard as my aching muscles would allow and felt the horse move under me and start clodding up the steep trail.

  �
��That’s it,” Al said. “That’s tellin’ him.”

  After enjoying a long silence, Bella called out to Al. “Why are all the horses male?” she asked.

  He never hesitated with his answer. “’Cause the mares can be tough…moody, if you know what I mean.” He grinned. “…especially that special time of the month.”

  Everyone laughed.

  There was nothing to see but beautiful desert scenery surrounded by three majestic mountain ranges. It felt like we were back in the untamed days of the Old West. There was a tremendous variety of desert vegetation and rock formations. Al stopped us a few times to take in the sights and smells of the open desert. “We have a few thousand acres available to us, but for today we won’t venture out too far.”

  I kept trying to find a comfortable position in the saddle and was pleased that Jumbo didn’t fuss. The old-timer turned out to be just as accommodating as Al.

  We spent the morning riding out to some sandy washes. On the way, Al pointed out the local vegetation and wildlife. With the exception of two jackrabbits, one coiled snake and a family of circling vultures, the Arizona desert was barren of life. Bella kept looking up, concerned.

  “They must have spotted you from the time we left,” I teased her.

  Al chuckled. “Not likely,” he said, “but they’re definitely hoping for something to lay down and die.”

  I had to laugh. In light of my worsening condition, Bella didn’t think it was all that funny – but I did.

  After washing down Mrs. Gomes’s bagged lunch with a full canteen of water, we headed back to the ranch. “Before this desert sun gives those vultures what they’re looking for,” Al said.

  No one argued – not even Mykala.

  Amongst the ruggedly beautiful, wide-open land, the slow scenic ride through the Saguaro cactus challenged the cowboy in all of us. My legs ached something awful. I could hardly stand, never mind sit anymore. As we rode back, though, I became more concerned about what might be eating at Al.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Two hours after we’d made it back to camp, Paul and his entourage came hooting back onto the ranch. They were covered in dirt and smiling. I looked at Bella. “That’s us tomorrow,” I said.

  “If I can get my muscles to climb back on Scout.”

  We ate real mesquite barbecue on long tables with checkerboard cloths. There were ribs and chicken, pork and beans, four-alarm chili and homemade corn bread. Though I knew my stomach would toss and turn, causing me half a night of lost sleep, my taste buds won out, and I exercised my dinner muscle for a solid twenty minutes. While we ate, Paul and Al gave an impromptu class on how to groom and saddle horses, and also covered roping on a dummy cow. I snuck Molly and Bailey a few ribs.

  “Don’t get caught,” Bella whispered.

  “Why? They’re not supposed to eat goat?” I quietly asked.

  She looked at me, curiously.

  “Well, I haven’t seen Pumpkin all day, have you?”

  She slapped my arm.

  After chewing three antacids, I took in a game of horseshoes but decided to sit out the line dancing. I’m glad I did. Watching my beautiful wife spinning and laughing made my excruciating pains more bearable.

  It was getting late when another friendly couple, Tommy and Chrissy, invited Bella and me to a poker tournament in the lodge. “Thank you, but I think we’ll have to pass tonight,” Bella said. Instead, we got into our swimsuits and claimed the hot tub to ease some of the saddle sores we were already feeling. Like wrinkled prunes, we held each other and soaked. I’d never seen so many stars twinkling within reach. Without ambient light, heaven looked even closer than the poker tournament.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  On Sunday morning, on bended knees, instead of pleading for a cure or more time, I gave thanks for all the goodness in my life. It’s the strangest thing, but I felt so much better, so much closer to God by saying thank you instead of begging please.

  We were served a light buffet breakfast so Mrs. Gomes could attend church. As I drank a mug of strong coffee, I scanned the mountains and sighed. It’s only been three days, but it already feels like home.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  While others headed down to the stables, Bella stopped me. “I don’t think my body can do it again today,” she said. “If you want to go on without me, I’ll…”

  “Nonsense,” I said, “I’m sure we’ll find something else to do. Besides, the cattle drive’s in two days.” I thought about Dr. Rice’s wise words and shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with saving our energy.” I never admitted it, but I couldn’t have been happier. My entire body throbbed.

  As we walked back to our hacienda, I caught Bella’s mischievous smile. She knows my pain, I decided, and she’s taking one for the team.

  Within the hour, my resourceful wife had us heading out to an old ghost town named Oatman. Even though we bounced around in the wagon, I was excited to be on the impromptu field trip.

  Oatman was named in honor of Olive Oatman, a young girl kidnapped by Mojave Indians and later rescued in 1857 near the town. It served as a railway passage for two years before the tent camp evolved into a gold-mining center. In 1915, two miners struck ten million dollars in gold. By the following year, the town’s population grew to more than three thousand.

  Good fortune went as quickly as it came though. In 1921, a massive fire claimed the smaller shacks in town. Three years later, United Eastern Mines shut down for good. From then on, Oatman struggled to survive by tending to travelers on U.S. Route 66.

  As Bella and I walked the old western town, two burros roamed the very streets where gunfights were staged on weekends. The weather was exactly as Bella had predicted – delightful, with low humidity.

  We visited the Oatman Hotel. Built in 1902, it was a run-down, two-story adobe structure that had once hosted miners, movie stars and politicians. It was Clark Gable and Carol Lombard’s honeymoon spot in 1939; the major attraction that still kept the hotel doors opened. “Mr. Gable returned here many times to play poker with some of the locals and enjoy the tranquility of the desert,” the guide explained.

  All along the wooden walks that lined the town, vendors sold handmade leather goods, Indian jewelry and knives. Bella did her usual browsing and bought a handbag for Riley before we stepped into the Mission Inn for lunch and a sweating pitcher of ice-cold lemonade.

  Before we boarded the wagon heading back to the ranch, I posed in Michael and Riley’s boots for a couple of full-length photos. “I can’t believe you carried those all the way out here,” Bella said and snapped a few more pictures.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The night before the big cattle drive, Mrs. Gomes prepared a feast fit for royalty; a buffet of fried catfish, chicken fried steak, crispy ranch chicken with cranberry sauce and all the fixings. For dessert, she outdid herself with homemade cookies, warm breads and apple pie. I told Bella, “You’d better watch out. I think I’m falling in love with that woman.”

  Bella shoved another cookie into her mouth and laughed. “I think I am, too.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  No one stayed behind. Ranch hands, guests and every horse at the ranch headed out for the two-day drive. Though I worried about my physical limitations, I was confident that my cowboy spirit was going to generate enough adrenaline to get me through.

  We set out at a nice easy pace, but I could tell by the way Paul and Al were riding in circles that the pace was about to pick up. It did. With both wranglers at the lead of the caravan and Mrs. Gomes’s covered chuck wagon bringing up the rear, all the rest of us had to do was stay in the middle and keep up. It proved to be a grueling task, and I doubled up on the pain meds just as soon as we stopped for a drink of water.

  We traveled through beautiful mountain meadows and rugged pine forests for hours without seeing another human being. Though it felt like a thousand miles, we only traveled ten the first day. The herd of cattle that had been grazing in a giant
mountain pasture was patiently waiting to be shipped back to the ranch’s empty corrals for branding, vaccinating and sorting. While we set up camp, Paul and Al rode out with Dusty to search for a few wanderers that had strayed from the herd. Tony, Mark and Tommy joined their flank. I was happy to stay behind and help pitch the tents.

  Though we ate under the same desert sky that night, it felt different; more real. I imagined the hard men who had gone before us, driving cattle, and I realized that my childhood dream had come true. Bella was helping Mrs. Gomes dish out some biscuits and gravy, along with some beef and barley soup, when I stepped up behind her and kissed the nape of her neck.

  She startled and looked back. “What was that for?” she asked with a smile.

  “For continuing to make my dreams come true.”

  Mrs. Gomes wiped her hands on her apron and grinned. “I don’t suppose my biscuits might fetch the same affection?” she asked.

  I planted a big one on her cheek.

  She laughed, heartily. “Y’all come and get it!” she called out.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The campfire burned brightly, and Dusty’s stories and music were more spirited than ever. I just hope my snoring doesn’t bother any of them, I thought. Sleep, I’d found, was the best remedy for dizzy spells and nausea.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The next morning, the aroma of bacon and eggs woke me. I gently shoved Bella. “Let’s go, Annie Oakley,” I told her. “We got work to do.”

  Everyone was gathered around the chuck wagon, talking and laughing about the day’s work ahead.